


The Strength Of Friendship

by jenniferdeb



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship/Love, Gen, Major Character Injury, Return of Magic, Saving a Life, True Love, Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 22:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 35
Words: 154,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1566266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenniferdeb/pseuds/jenniferdeb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a rewrite of S5 Finale, where Arthur lives to realise the Golden Age of Camelot and to return magic to the kingdom with the help of his closest friend and councillor, Merlin. However, the path to reach their ideals never runs smoothly as old and new enemies rise up to challenge the destiny of Albion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Friend Indeed

The Strength of Friendship

Chapter One

A Friend Indeed

The ground was cold… hard and unyielding, as the young man cradled the body of his friend to protect him from the elements. They had come so close to salvation. He could not fail at the last hurdle!

Yet he watched in horror as his wounded master's arm fell away, too weak to hold on. No, not master and servant. On this journey they had transcended the customary titles. Over the years, they had become strange friends, and perhaps more. They were two sides of a coin.

Merlin cried his friend's name, feeling a surge of relief as the blue eyes opened once more, but the comfort was fleeting as Arthur's heavy lids closed again.

This was too much! Merlin threw his head back and shouted to the heavens, calling on his last source of aid. He laid his forehead to The King's; was there a faint touch of warmth still emanating from that pale brow? 

Merlin concentrated, lending his love and strength to the feeble flame which still flickered within The King's ailing body. After all, this was not just his friend. This was Arthur, the warrior king, and he would not go down to death without one last fight. 

The laboured flapping of wings and the thump of a too heavy landing broke into Merlin's thoughts. He set Arthur gently on the wet grass and stood to confront the dragon, valiantly trying to hide his shock at the sight of the once powerful beast. Merlin knew from their last meeting that Kilgarrah was ageing, but now he looked a shadow of the great, mythical being that had for years awed and, at times, intimidated the people of this land. Even Kilgarrah's iridescence had dulled, like a guttering candle.

Sadness threatened to consume him.

But this was wrong. Merlin had been told many times that he was the mightiest of all sorcerers who had ever lived, and, as long as he had a breath left in his body, he would not lose two of his dearest compatriots at the same time.

“I have one last favour to ask of you, Kilgarrah. Will you take us to the Isle of Avalon?” he asked, refusing to use his power as a Dragonlord to command. Kilgarrah must offer his help out of compassion, which the magical creature did readily. 

With an ease Merlin believed he could not muster, he lifted Arthur onto the dragon's back, and in moments they were flying across the country, covering the distance to Avalon which, mere moments ago, had seemed like an impossible journey.

Far below their feet, the deep forest flowed like a green tide across the land, but Merlin was too preoccupied to notice. He held Arthur close, sheltering him from the windchill, while wondering if Arthur's recent acceptance of magic would extend to an alliance with Kilgarrah. The King had only known The Great Dragon as a foe. Merlin fervently prayed that there would be a time when that problem could be addressed. He did have a sneaking suspicion that Arthur's sense of adventure would actually enjoy flying on a dragon's back.

Within minutes they were landing, and Merlin consigned that question to an unsure future. 

Soon, he was dragging Arthur's inert body from the dragon's scaly back, pulling him with difficulty towards a small boat, which was tied up by the reed-edged shore of Lake Avalon. Was Arthur's weight increasing? Merlin refused to consider his 'brother' a dead weight.

Higher on the bank, Kilgarrah stretched out his sinewy neck towards the pair of humans who had become part of his legend, a look of melancholy filled his once glowing gold eyes, now dimmed with age and pain.

“There is nothing you can do, Merlin,” he said, his voice breaking on the solemn words.

Merlin tried to juggle Arthur into a more upright position; his actions denying the tragic truth which was struggling to invade his mind. He would not let Arthur die!

“He is my friend!” He threw his defiance at the dragon, at the earth and sky around him and the misty waters at his back. “I cannot fail him.” But at those last words, his shoulders slumped. “I have failed him,” he said in little more than a whisper.

“No! Young Warlock...” Kilgarrah's protest was uttered with a mixture of assurance and sympathy.

“Yes!” Merlin interrupted sharply. “Gaius told me that Arthur could only be healed by a magic as old as the dragons'. Yet I wanted to be the one to bring him here, to save him.” His voice became desperate. “I believed I was powerful enough... I wanted to be the one to bring him back to health.” He laid his precious burden on the ground. “I should have called you earlier. Got you to fly us directly to the lake...”

This time it was Kilgarrah's turn to cut in. “Merlin, do you think Arthur would have accepted a ride from someone he believes to be his enemy? He needed this time to come to terms with learning of your magic. Assenting to my help would have been a step too far.”

It took a few minutes for Merlin to recognise the truth of Kilgarrah's words, but he would not submit to this fate. There was still too much work for them both to do to see Albion to its safe harbour.

“Perhaps I cannot save him, but Kilgarrah, your magic is as old as The Sidhe. Is there really nothing left that you can do for Arthur? You know that Albion is in a perilous position without its true leader. I care dearly for Gwen, but I doubt she and the Knights can survive without Arthur's vision, or courage, or his ancient lineage. They will never achieve The Golden Age of Camelot you told me of. You have to help him,” Merlin pleaded, glancing at the too still figure by his feet.

“I cannot cure him, Merlin!”

Merlin uttered a dread groan, torn from his throat which felt much too tight. Tears flowed freely on his cheeks as he sank down by Arthur's side. It seemed he would have to give in to the inevitable… Arthur was dead.

Perhaps in some future life, he would meet again with The Once and Future King, but, for the present, his dearest friend was gone. Merlin's heart broke.

So great was his torment, he did not hear Kilgarrah continue. 

“It is true I cannot cure him. Perhaps many years ago when I was stronger, but it does no good to talk of what cannot come to pass.” 

Kilgarrah studied the young warlock sitting on the ground, a picture of abject misery. Was he about to do the right thing by both young men? But Merlin had spoken the truth. Albion was not yet strong enough to resist the Saxon tide that was rising around her. The people would need to have faith in a strong leader and his wise councillor to give them the will to resist. Queen Guinevere was loved, but she did not inspire the spirit of her people as did their king, who in his short reign had treated them with justice, had offered them hope and the promise of a better life. Perhaps this journey had been necessary to teach Arthur what he still needed to know, yet he had to live for that knowledge to be of any use.

The Great Dragon swallowed hard, having made his decision. He could not know if his actions might jeopardize the future… but perhaps this King had more than one reincarnation. It could not be denied that Albion was in dire peril in this era, and Arthur would always rise when his beloved Camelot needed him.

Clearing his throat, Kilgarrah spoke. “Merlin.” The young warlock was locked in grief and did not move. “Merlin! I did say that I could not cure him, but perhaps there is something I can do...”

Those words took some minutes to penetrate Merlin's sorrow, but slowly he understood and scrambled to his feet.

“What? What can you do?” Merlin demanded. “Whatever it is, you must do it. Arthur's fate and mine cannot end here.”

“Patience, Merlin,” Kilgarrah instructed with a trace of his former imperiousness. “We must first decide if this is the correct course of action.”

“Yes! Yes! Of course it is the right thing to do, and quickly, because Arthur is dead,” he huffed, shivering more from emotion than the chill of the fog which clung to the lake. “I might not have learned everything about physiology from Gaius, but I'm pretty sure the longer he stays that way the more difficult it is to bring him back.”

“Merlin, calm yourself.” Kilgarrah decided to be magnanimous. “The spirit of life is faint within your king, but it has not yet dispersed completely. We have a little time.”

Merlin swung around, looking out over the water in frustration. “There is nothing to talk about.” He turned back to the dragon, his arms spread wide, remembering how often in the past he had found Kilgarrah irritating. “You must do everything you can to save Arthur.”

Kilgarrah bowed his head low. “If that is your command, Dragonlord, I cannot disobey.”

“No, that's not what I meant.” Merlin's hands swept through his hair, the urgency of the situation driving him to distraction. How could Kilgarrah remain so calm? “I don't understand why you hesitate. You were the one who continually preached about the acceptance of magic and uniting of Albion. Surely Arthur's presence would smooth that process?”

Shaking his huge head with a sigh, the great dragon dropped his pretence of aloofness. “That I would not refute. But remember, Merlin, I stated I could not cure him. The magical shard already touches Arthur's heart; I have not the power left within me to remove it.” Kilgarrah watched as tears sprung anew in Merlin's eyes, so he added quickly. “However, I can, mayhap, slow its journey; even reverse its course. It is not a complete remedy, but it would possibly give Arthur time to fulfil the dream you share. Time for you and for those who love him to become accustomed to his loss...”

Merlin doubted he would ever adapt to life without Arthur, but it was a better scenario than this, and there would be a chance to say goodbye. A lump rose in his throat, remembering he'd forbidden Arthur to say farewell. That had been wrong. But now Kilgarrah was telling him there would be no need for leave taking. At least, not yet.

“How long?” Merlin asked starkly. “How long could you give him?”

The thick, leathery neck undulated while Kilgarrah considered his reply. “I'm sorry, young warlock, that I cannot say. That future is unclear to me. Perhaps Arthur will only have some months ahead of him, or perhaps some years. There is a reinforcing spell I could teach you which would help.”

“Couldn't you stay around to help?” In his eagerness, Merlin forgot that Kilgarrah's own end was drawing near. Now he knew, without a shadow of doubt, that in performing this magic spell, the dragon was giving up the last of his strength. Could Merlin allow one friend to sacrifice himself for another? 

There was only one answer to that question, painful though the realization was for Merlin, yet the noble Kilgarrah took away even that hurt.

“Merlin! I am old and weak. It is time for me to leave this plane of existence, to journey to another place. It is only a small offering I make for the greater good. Do not grieve for me, young warlock. It has been my honour to serve you and The Once and Future King.”

Both sorcerer and legendary beast exchanged a long empathic look, till Kilgarrah shook himself from his reverie. 

“Come, Merlin, you are correct. Time grows short, and if we are to accomplish Arthur's revival we must hurry. Close your eyes, my friend, and open your heart and mind while I transfer the spell you will need to protect Arthur's future health. Then we will bring The King back.”

Once before Kilgarrah had breathed knowledge directly into Merlin's brain. This time felt no different. Though the enchantment was more complex, Merlin's understanding had grown tenfold since that far off day. A feeling of hope transformed Merlin as Kilgarrah's intellect faded from his senses.

Finally, the great dragon turned his attention to the mail-clad body lying between them. Yet, once more, Merlin's impatience increased as Kilgarrah addressed him.

“Perhaps your friend will not thank me for my interference. He has already accepted his fate with grace. Life might not be quite the prize you or he are expecting.”

“Kilgarrah,” Merlin's agitation hardened his voice. “This is not the time for riddles...”

“I do not speak in riddles.” The haughty note returned to Kilgarrah's voice. “I merely want to point out that, heretofore, Arthur has been the great warrior king,` proud of his skill and fighting prowess. The Arthur who awakes will bear a metal shard within his chest for the rest of his life. Any trauma, or even extreme activity might overturn my enchantment, and he will surely die. You must stress upon him the need for caution. I wonder if Arthur will be satisfied living a more sedentary life.”

Merlin nodded his understanding, but would not allow such considerations to deter them from bringing Arthur back to life.

“Kilgarrah, that will be my task, to make him come to terms with a more peaceful existence. I think he might listen to me more readily now. Besides, it is Arthur's strong spirit and beliefs we need. Camelot has many knights who would willingly lay down their lives for him. Please, Kilgarrah, wait no more.” Merlin gestured to Arthur's body. “Bring him back.”

*****

The day was fading quietly in the west before Arthur at last began to stir. After performing the life-saving spell, Kilgarrah had bade Merlin a final goodbye and flown off. Watching the great dragon lift cumbersomely, when once he had soared effortlessly, into a pale blue sky, Merlin's heart was filled with equal measures of gratitude and sorrow. He knew he would never see Kilgarrah again.

For a few moments, he pondered the fate of Aithusa. Where was the baby dragon whose birth had promised such optimism for the Kingdom of Albion? Was she grieving for the loss of the one person who had loved her, watched over her?

Morgana! The once caring and passionate girl who had grown into a hate-filled, vengeful woman. Such destruction she had wrought on Camelot, and yet Merlin couldn't wipe out his feelings of guilt and despair for her death. Could he have saved her? He felt like he had failed her too. 

Perhaps Morgana had inherited too many of Uther's traits to embrace redemption. Though they fought in opposite camps, father and daughter had wielded their powers with the same unremitting loathing and unquestionable force. Neither had ever doubted their actions, unlike the son or brother, who had shown himself more open-minded and more reasonable than either of his relatives. 

In the future, the dragonlord might go in search of Aithusa, but for now he had more pressing tasks. Kilgarrah had revived Arthur, but The King was still extremely weak and exhausted. It was up to Merlin to see that Arthur survived.

The cloudless day had given way to a damp, bone-chilling evening. Not the ideal weather to spend a night outdoors for a man who had been so close to death, who was even yet lingering within its shadow. Merlin had made sure Arthur was not resting on the earth by gathering clumps of broom and heather, over which he had spread his own blanket. Tonight they would lie together underneath Arthur's thick red cloak, keeping each other warm.

It was unfortunate the horses had been lost along with most of their gear and, so far, he had been unable to find them. He had managed to collect some water from the lake, but had only eaten a meagre meal of edible berries. Thankfully, Arthur had remained unconscious during the day, but The King would need to eat something soon to regain his strength. 

Merlin was hoping he could find the horses the next day and perhaps they could start making their way back to Camelot. Would Gwen send out a search party for them? Gaius had hoped to persuade The Queen to wait, to give Merlin a chance to reach The Sidhe and persuade them to cure Arthur, but when they didn't return, would Gwen be able to resist trying to discover the fate of her husband?

He sincerely hoped she would ignore any advice and follow her heart. Now Arthur was relatively safe, Merlin needed all the help he could get to keep him that way. But for this night, neither human relief nor horses were available. If he weren't so concerned, Merlin might appreciate a night spent alone with his king, particularly as Arthur seemed to be showing signs of returning consciousness. This could be the first time they spent together when Arthur knew of Merlin's magical ability, without having the threat of death hanging over them. Though the weather might not be very warm, there could well be some angry sparks ignited between them.

True to form, Arthur uttered a feeble groan, which after a couple of further attempts, finally, formed into Merlin's name. The King's tired gaze frantically roamed the area around him, searching for his servant, his friend.

The warlock was immediately at his king's side, pleased to note that though Arthur's skin was still pale, the greyish tinge of death had receded. “I'm here, Arthur.” He took hold of Arthur's hand which protruded shakily from the cloak. “Please, sire. Don't try to talk.”

Arthur's head shook back and forth, minutely, on his makeshift pillow. “Merlin... you suc... succeeded, or am... am I still dying?” he finished on a breathy whisper.

“I succeeded. We succeeded,” Merlin added a little cagily. Now might not be the best time to reveal Kilgarrah's intervention in Arthur's improving health. He had already made up his mind to come clean with Arthur on everything, but when they were safely back in Camelot with Arthur comfortably ensconced in his own bed. However, whatever questions Arthur asked him this night, Merlin would not evade. “But you are still very weak, sire, and we have no supplies but what you see, so we must make do as best we can.”

“Merlin, please.” Arthur tried to take a deep breath, which ended in a croaky cough. “No more 'sires' or 'my lords'. I am now and always Arthur to you.”

“But...”

“No!” Arthur, scraping enough air into his lungs to continue, spoke with a little more force. “Don't argue with your king, or a sick man.”

A tiny grin curved Merlin's mouth. “You always were the most stubborn person I've ever known. As you will, Arthur. Would you like some water?”

Arthur nodded and his eyebrow raised in question, while Merlin hurried off to fetch The King a drink. He returned moments later with a battered old bowl he'd found and cleaned by the water's edge, but before he placed the cup to Arthur's lips, he used a short magic spell to warm the water.

At the flash of gold in Merlin's eyes, The King frowned a little disbelievingly. He was grateful for the liquid on his parched throat, and glad that it didn't chill him to the bone. He took another sip.

“Merlin, is this the best your magic can do?” he said, surveying the ancient drinking vessel and the rest of their barren camp. “Couldn't you magic me a bed... or even the horses and our gear.” 

Once more Arthur's words ended in a racking cough, and Merlin held his breath, praying that the spasms wouldn't shake loose the piece of sword still lodged in Arthur's chest. Yet Kilgarrah's enchantment held true, and with a jolt, he realized he would have to get used to that underlying fear and attempt not to treat his friend like an invalid. The dragon was right about Arthur's reaction to that kind of treatment. The King would hate being cocooned.

“Even a fire would be nice,” Arthur suggested wistfully, proving that he wasn't averse to a little pampering. “Being near death chills you through and through.”

“I just remembered you were an impatient clotpole too.” Merlin smiled broadly, relieved to be sharing some old-type banter with Arthur. “A fire I can do, but I have to collect some more wood.” He pointed at a small pile of burning twigs situated near Arthur's feet which were in danger of going out. “We'll be warm again soon, and hopefully I can find us something to eat.

“Please, not rat stew!”

“You must be feeling better now you're getting all demanding again,” Merlin complained, though secretly loving it.

“I am still a king!” Arthur declared with just a hint of his old swagger, yet seconds later he visually deflated. “Am I not? I don't even know if we truly won the battle... or who is still a... alive?” 

The very slight halt at the end of Arthur's statement alerted Merlin to the fact that The King was almost too afraid to ask. He knelt by Arthur's side once more.

“We did win the battle, and now you're going to live, it is not a hollow victory. But our losses were great.” At Arthur's shuddering sigh, Merlin placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. “Thankfully, the Saxons' were greater.”

“Due to you, Merlin. To your sorcery.”

A grimace crossed the King's face, telling Merlin he was still in pain, or had he still not come to terms with Merlin's magic, or the years he'd been lied to? 

“I have to thank you for the victory.” Arthur's hand covered Merlin's and squeezed feebly.

Perhaps, while Arthur thought he was dying, he'd found it easier to accept Merlin's secret, but living with that magic might prove harder for The King, though that too was a problem for the future.

“You've already thanked me, and to tell the truth any more would be boring,” he said, trying to lighten the mood, but it appeared Arthur was not to be sidetracked. At Arthur's continued frown, Merlin proceeded. “Arthur, remember I had already left the battleground with you before the final accounting. I know only what Gaius told me.”

Arthur nodded. “We know Gaius is alive, if he made it back to Camelot safely...”

“I think we can assume that Morgana's men were too busy fleeing to attack an old man... and, no, I cannot use magic to scry. I don't have the tools and no one ever taught me.”

“Hmph! Your magic isn't up to much then. Is it? If I'm going to have a sorcerer at my court, I want the best. “ Arthur attempted a joke, but appeared almost too scared to laugh in case he exacerbated the ache in his chest. “Besides, according to Gaius, you are supposed to be more powerful than any sorcerer that has ever lived, and you told me you can see the path ahead.”

“It's a very long path to Camelot, Sire.”

“Merlin, stop 'siring' me, and try to discover what is happening. I need to know!”

Seeing the strain in Arthur's deeply shadowed eyes, Merlin relented. He felt sure there should be a scrying glass, or a bowl of water, yet Balinor, his father, had faith in him. He should experiment with these new powers he'd acquired. Of course, he could go down to the lake; the waters of Avalon were magical, but Arthur wasn't yet in any condition to be left alone.

“Very well. For you, I'll give it a try, but I can't promise success.”

He closed his eyes to concentrate, or to shut out Arthur's eager, expectant gaze. Within seconds, he had the strangest feeling of flying disembodied across the land towards Camelot, covering miles in the blink of an eye. Suddenly, he was inside the citadel, twisting his way through the familiar passages to the royal solar to find The Queen. A huge lump formed in his throat to see Gwen sitting alone at dinner, allowing her tears to fall since there was no one to witness her heartache.

“Arthur, oh my love, how can I go on without you?” she sobbed, though Merlin heard her words inside his head. She had not spoken aloud. “You have to live, you have to!”

The door opened, and Merlin continued to watch as Leon made his report to The Queen. With an aching heart he saw Gwen fight to compose herself and listen as the knight delivered his account to his lady.

A hand clutched at Merlin's arm, more strongly than he had expected from Arthur, and he was yanked back to the reality of their desolate bivouac.

“What did you see? What's wrong with Guinevere?”

“Nothing! Nothing!” Merlin took hold of Arthur's shoulders and tried to push him back into the springy bracken. “Lie down. Gwen is well, physically, but she misses you.”

“You can see her?” Arthur asked in wonder. 

“I could, but you interrupted me.”

“Try again, Merlin. Please. I promise to keep quiet.”

“You will?” Arthur nodded. “Good. Lets do this.” 

He closed his eyes for a second time, eager to explore this new talent, but when he felt his hand clutched by Arthur's he didn't draw away. In his mind's eye, he returned to the scene in Camelot.

“Gwen has your seal, so Gaius must have returned.”

Arthur's whisper came out of the darkness. “Then she knows I'm alive, though that must have been two days ago, and without any word, she might believe I've died. Oh, Guinevere.”

Merlin lifted a hand to silence Arthur. “Leon has joined her. I think he must have taken charge of the army because he's giving her a report.”

“Good. I trust Leon. He's a skilled fighter, experienced in strategy too... a good man to take my place.”

“Arthur, no one can take your place. Not in the hearts of the people of Camelot, nor in Gwen's.” Merlin mused that for all Arthur's arrogant front, what drew people to his side was the fact that he cared deeply for all, no matter what their station. “Besides, you will return.” Merlin hadn't forgotten Kilgarrah's speculation about the length of Arthur's life, but that was another topic best kept for another day.

“Wait! Gwen is talking. She's telling Leon she believes you to be alive. She says she feels it in her heart. I don't think Leon is so sure, but he will not hurt The Queen with his doubts.”

“You reached her?” Arthur's voice trembled with emotion. “Once more I thank you from the bottom of my heart, my friend.”

“I didn't do anything,” Merlin said quickly. “It's the love you share that bridges the gap between you. Nothing to do with magic.” He pushed up from the ground, his knees stiff and cramped, and stretched his back to ease the tension. He stifled a yawn. “Let me tell you, scrying is the hardest thing I've ever tried. I think we both need to rest, and I have to get you back to Gwen safely. For that you need to eat and sleep, and I need to go find us more firewood and something to cook.”

“Wait, Merlin.” Again Arthur stayed Merlin by catching his hand. “What of the others... Gwaine, Percival? The rest of the knights?”

Merlin bit down on his lip. The information Arthur wanted could very well be distressing, and he wasn't sure he was up to discovering the fate of his friends, never mind repeating it to Arthur. But The King shared a special bond with the Knights of The Round Table, and Merlin doubted Arthur would rest easily until he knew the facts.

“Arthur, I don't know, and it's getting late. After I build up the fire and we eat, I promise I will try again and tell you all I can discover.”

Dusk was almost upon them, and finding food would be harder in the murky light, so Merlin set out on his search, warning Arthur to keep still and try to get some sleep. It was a measure of Arthur's weakness that he didn't defy his friend.

*****


	2. Promises Round A Campfire

Chapter Two

Promises Around a Camp-fire

The shores of lake Avalon, in this particular spot, were covered with stunted trees and bushes, so it took Merlin longer than he'd expected to gather wood for the fire. There was every chance the temperature would drop during the night, and it was important that Arthur be kept warm. The fire would need a lot of fuel. 

Merlin also had to find something for a meal; his stomach was complaining that it was well past dinner time. With that in mind, he'd appropriated Excalibur, hoping The King wouldn't be too upset that his famous sword should be put to such a mundane use. However, Merlin discovered that a sword wasn't the ideal weapon for hunting rabbits or other small mammals... neither was magic. 

By the time he returned to the camp, darkness had fallen and a chill wind blew from the surface of the lake, sighing eerily amongst the reeds and gorse, while overhead, a hunting owl hooted, the sound plaintive in the gathering gloom. He only hoped the bird had more success than he. Placing his burdens on the ground by the remains of the fire, he hurried over to the makeshift pallet.

Arthur was still asleep, yet in a restless slumber he had tossed his cloak away. Gently, Merlin placed a hand on Arthur's brow expecting to find it cold, but instead it was unhealthily warm. Was the dragon's spell failing already? 

A sense of dread filled Merlin's soul. Surely Kilgarrah never intended to revive Arthur only for one day. Except, the dragon hadn't been in full possession of his powers. Perhaps neither Kilgarrah nor Emrys could thwart destiny.

Tears slipped helplessly down Merlin's cheek and splashed onto Arthur's face, a face that gleamed palely in the light of a fitful moon, yet the blue eyes opened and immediately focused on Merlin's worried frown.

“What is it?” Arthur's question was sharp. “A Saxon patrol?” His hand groped instinctively for his sword.

“No, Arthur,” Placing both hands on Arthur's shoulders, he pushed The King down on the makeshift bed. “No, soldiers. Just us. But it is going to be freezing tonight, and you seem to be running a fever.” He hid his concern as he fussily spread the red cloak over Arthur again. “You need to keep warm.”

“I am warm! Too warm...”

“Because you have a fever, and I'm the physician, so do as you're told.” The fact that Arthur had enough energy to fight with him soothed Merlin's escalating fears. 

“Are you treating me as a physician or a sorcerer?” Arthur asked with a smile, taking any sting out of his words.

“To tell the truth, I'm not sure. A little of both, I suppose.” He sat back on his heels. “I managed to find some comfrey and sticklewort. I'll make you a tincture, once I get this fire started again. It should reduce the fever.”

Arthur grimaced. “Oh, joy! No doubt it will taste as bad as Gaius' usual potions.”

“Don't be such a girl!” With his anxieties calming down, Merlin was beginning to enjoy his interaction with The King.

“Hey, you keep pinching my lines!” Arthur moaned. 

“Well, I'm in charge for the moment, so just relax and accept it.” Merlin sent his friend a stern look, belied by the quirk of his lips. “But joking aside, you might be out of danger, but you are still suffering from the effects of your wound, and you have to take care of yourself. That means doing what I tell you.”

Merlin busily built up the fire, and with a little blast of magic, flames were soon burning brightly, while sparks floated like rubies into the sky. Both men basked silently in the fire-glow for a few moments, content in each other's company. “Are your boots dry?” Merlin piped up. 

“They're fine,” Arthur answered, trusting himself completely to Merlin and feeling a sense of relief in doing so. He also pulled the cloak more tightly around his body, just as he had been instructed. “You don't have to fuss. I'll do exactly what you say until I'm well again. You're right. Camelot needs me; Guinevere needs me, needs us both, in fact. The sooner I'm better, the sooner we can start for home and fixing what's wrong in Camelot, namely those laws on prosecuting sorcerers. I might not have adhered strictly to my father's laws these last years, but they ought to have been repealed. No doubt that won't please some of my father's old-guard, so I'm going to need your help, Merlin.” 

Arthur's words brought joy to Merlin's soul. At last, magic would be accepted in the land; one part of his destiny accomplished. Yet his happiness was tinged with pathos, especially since Arthur's long speech had left him looking decidedly shaky. Soon he would have to talk about the true state of Arthur's health.

But the royal stomach growled, which had to be a good sign. “Merlin, did you say we had food? I think I could eat something.”

“You're not going to like this...”

“Merlin, please not rat stew? I hoped that was just a joke.”

“No! No rat. No meat of any kind, actually.”

“Not even a rabbit? I admit it's a bit difficult to kill a rabbit with a sword.” Arthur pointed to Excalibur; so he had realised Merlin had taken it. “But you blasted a few hundred Saxons with your lightening bolts, surely a couple of rabbits shouldn't be too difficult.”

“Those Saxons were threatening to wipe us out! I had to destroy them. Somehow a couple of innocent rabbits don't fall into the same category.” Merlin ducked his head, somewhat abashed at this admission.

Those words brought an animated chuckle from Arthur. “You're very soft-hearted as sorcerers go, but please, don't ever change. Besides, I'm beginning to realise I've met a very bad class of sorcerers in the past. You'll have to introduce me to some of your friends.”

Clearly, Arthur was taking this whole magic thing very well, but there was a large slice of truth in what he said. “I'd be glad to, but to be honest, I don't know many sorcerers. They were all too busy hiding their gifts from Uther...”

“And from me,” Arthur sighed again. “I wanted my kingdom to be fair and honest, a haven for all decent people, noble and commoner alike, and I haven't really succeeded in that. I've misjudged a whole group of my subjects because it was easier to believe what had been drummed into me as a child, that magic was evil and all who practise it were breaking the laws of Camelot. I did my father's bidding, though I didn't always approve. I cannot excuse myself from blame” The King reached out and placed a hand on Merlin's arm. “ But, you have my word that I intend to change, to learn what magic really means... and that's not just empty words.” 

Merlin glanced up from shredding his stock of berries and roots with Excalibur. To be honest, he was finding it very difficult to use the large sword as a paring knife. “I believe you, Arthur, but neither of us imagines that's as straightforward as it sounds. There are some who are still afraid of magic, and some who are uncomfortable with change.”

“Then we have to persuade them. Nothing worthwhile is ever simple, but we will find a way.” After watching Merlin struggle with the sword for a few minutes, Arthur pushed himself upright and swung his legs towards the fire. “Here, give that to me,” he demanded, but not quite in his King of Camelot voice. “You'll cut yourself. I'm assuming we need some water to boil these in, so perhaps you could collect some from the lake, while I attempt some shredding.”

Merlin couldn't keep the scepticism from his voice. “Are you sure? Your hands aren't exactly steady either. Ki... I... didn't cure you just to let you bleed to death from slitting your wrists by accident.” 

Merlin gulped. Here he was lying to Arthur again, and he certainly didn't want to, but needs must. If Arthur wanted him to scry again after supper, he felt sure there would be a great deal of raw emotions flowing. He must learn patience, tackle one problem at a time.

But Arthur was too busy trying to master the art of slicing vegetables to notice Merlin's slip, or the blush that covered his cheeks. “Even half dead,” he declared, “I think I can handle a blade better than you, though I understand now why you turned down the lessons I offered. You never needed a conventional weapon...”

“I have my skills. You have yours,” Merlin offered.

“True,” Arthur acceded with a little tilt of his head. “But somehow I think I'm the lesser man.”

“Never say so!” Merlin cried in amazement and a hint of annoyance. “You were born to be a king, a true king. The old woman who gave you the Horn of Cathbhhadh saw that... and she only knew you for a very short time. You have all the attributes of a great leader: You have vision, and a strong sense of purpose; but most of all, you honestly care about the welfare of your people, and you inspire them to be greater than they are. If I'd never left Ealdor, never journeyed to Camelot and met you, perhaps I wouldn't be the sorcerer I am today. We are the two sides of a coin, Arthur. Neither one greater than the other half. We share a destiny. There is no one without the other.”

“Then you shall be with me, Merlin. One thing I'm certain of is that I will not reign alone like my father. With you and Guinevere to council me, perhaps I can be that great king you speak of.”

Merlin nodded, his affection for his friend overflowing, however he hid his feelings with a quip. It was the normal way the two men communicated. “That will be a difficult task for Gwen and me.”

“What?!” Arthur squealed in mock horror. He had been unconsciously rubbing a mushroom between his fingers. Now he threw it at Merlin, with unerring aim. 

Merlin plucked the mushroom out of the air seconds before it hit his head. “Anger-management training might come in very useful.”

“Wrong, Merlin. I'm not angry at all.” Arthur excused himself, loftily. “I'm just wondering if that fungus is actually edible? Here we are discussing the magnificent future of Camelot, so it wouldn't help those plans if we died of food-poisoning before it even started.”

“Oh! Right!” Merlin studied the offending plant, and the others which lay on a stone in front of Arthur. “Maybe not,” he decided, throwing it over his shoulder. “I must have picked it by mistake, and that one too.” He indicated a red-topped toadstool. “But the rest are fine.”

Using some green leaves which he'd lifted, Arthur pointed at Merlin. “Merlin, how can you be so wise, yet such an idiot too?”

Merlin smirked. “It's just another part of my charm. And that plant you're holding is comfrey. It's medicinal and not meant to go in the stew. Leave that for me to brew up later.” He climbed to his feet and, lifting the ancient bowl, went off to fetch water. 

“I've never said that cooking was one of my strong points!” Arthur's laughter followed in his wake, as he remembered times past.

*****

Late into the night, the two men sat huddled together for warmth, the voluminous cloak swept around both their shoulders to keep out the wind, while the fire warmed their faces, hands and feet.

Both were tired, and Arthur was drowsy due to Merlin's potion, but neither wished to go to sleep just yet. Uncharacteristically, The King had shown a good deal of patience by not demanding Merlin to 'see' for him again. Yet Merlin was aware of Arthur's anxiously bitten lip, his furrowed brow. As long as Arthur breathed he would worry about those left behind in Camelot.

While preparing the food, they'd touched on a few serious topics and shared the odd tease. In contrast, they'd both been quiet during the meal, concentrating on what they'd learned in the last couple of days. At last, they spoke in unison.

“Arthur!”

“Merlin!”

There was a second of silence before The King gestured for Merlin to speak.

“Sire...”

“Merlin, you've forgotten again.”

“Sorry,” Merlin ducked his head, before staring into Arthur's face. “Would you like me to scry for you again?”

Arthur's eyebrows rose. “Is reading minds another one of your talents?”

“Not yours! I've always been mystified by your thought processes.”

“And I yours!” Both men still vied to get in the last word, and probably always would. “But joking aside, Merlin, if you're not too tired or upset, I would like to know who amongst my knights is still alive, and it's going to take us an age to walk back to Camelot, even starting at first light.” It was typical Arthur to ignore his state of health. He rolled his hand over. “So, if you would? You mentioned Leon, already. I'm happy he is unhurt and helping Guinevere, and you must be relieved Gaius has found his way home, though I suspect he's a very busy physician right now. The kingdom owes him much.”

“You do know I might discover information that might upset you, if I am successful at all? This is a new skill for me.”

For a few minutes, Arthur remained silent, deliberating. Finally, he gave a sharp nod. “I think not knowing is worse. I watched Edgar Sergeant die. He was a guard in my father's army. I had known him since I was a boy. It was he I was with when Mordred attacked me.” Arthur swallowed hard. “You were right about him, Merlin. You never did trust Mordred... though it was probably my refusal to pardon Kara that turned him against me. There was good in him, though I doubt you would agree.”

Merlin searched Arthur's sorrowful face. Even now, there was no sign of rancour towards Mordred. “I do agree, and I did like him, but I'd been shown a vision of Mordred stabbing you at Camlann. After that, I couldn't be easy with his presence in Camelot.”

“That's understandable, and you couldn't tell me to get rid of him, not without revealing you had magic.”

“I should have told you... earlier,” Merlin said with regret. “Maybe we could have put a stop to the battle.”

“No, Merlin. You couldn't have known how I would have reacted to an earlier confession. I don't even know how I would have reacted.” Arthur ran a hand through his hair. “But I am sure I wouldn't have had you executed. Exiled perhaps, though I'd probably have begged you to come back, after a few weeks of enduring the excellent George's ministrations.” A wry grin flitted across Arthur's face.

“I should have tried to help Morgana when I first discovered she had magic.” Merlin could no longer ignore his guilt. “Perhaps...”

With a shake of his head, Arthur interrupted quickly. “We can't do this, Merlin. Second guess ourselves this way. How far do we have to go back? If I had never been born and my mother had lived, Uther wouldn't have demonised sorcery. A lot of innocent people wouldn't have been consigned to the flames, and there would have been no need for Morgana to run away.” 

“Arthur, you had no control over your conception, or your birth.”

For some seconds Arthur stared pensively into the fire. “We can't undo the past; but, henceforth, we can try to ensure that Albion is just and fair to all the people who dwell within her borders. That is the legacy I want for Camelot. Will you stand with me, Merlin?” 

Arthur stretched a hand out to the man by his side, and when Merlin took hold, he pulled him in for a hug. No jokes nor horseplay, no doubts. Not master and servant, just two men who were closer than friends, closer even than the brotherhood of The Knights of The Round Table. They were two halves of a whole, destined to build a kingdom that would live long in the minds of men, and they would do it together.

When they finally parted, both men decided they were too weary, too emotionally spent for further enchantments. Tonight they would sleep and tomorrow they would begin to reshape the future.

*****


	3. The End of The Beginning

Chapter Three

The End of The Beginning

It was testament to Arthur and Merlin's exhaustion and Sir Percival's tracking skills, that the knight was able to steal upon the pair, soon after dawn.

He took some seconds to watch them sleeping side-by-side, a smile hovering on his face. It was hard to imagine one without the other. There had been a few occasions in his life when he had felt an almost similar bond; first with Lancelot and then with Gwaine, but both men had been cruelly snatched away at the hands of Morgana, and the gods knew where the witch was now. Thankfully, he'd reached The King and Merlin before she had time to do any more damage, but she could show up soon. There was no time to lose, so he knelt and gently shook them awake.

“Sire! Merlin!” he called, with joy in his heart when both stirred. “My Lord, it's good to see you are recovered. From Gaius' tale, we weren't sure you would survive, though we hoped Merlin would be able to save you.”

Arthur struggled to untangle himself from his heavy cloak. It took him a few minutes to find the strength to sit up. “Percival!” he said, grabbing the knight's arm, and clasping it as heartily as he could manage. “I'm glad you found us. I'm not sure I even knew you were looking for us, but it is good to see you. Not sure I'm totally recovered, either,” he added with a wheeze, holding his other arm across his chest. There was that oppressive feeling again!

“You are still alive, Sire, and that's what counts,” Percival said, grinning.

“Thanks to Merlin here,” Arthur added, giving the sleeping warlock a nudge in the ribs. “Come on, sleepyhead, wake up. We've been rescued. How many of the knights are with you?” He directed his last question at Percival, which sadly ended with a cough, so he didn't mark the grimace that crossed the tall knight' face.

Merlin, however, did notice, the servant always more alert on waking than his king. “Are you alone, Percival?”

“Sadly, yes. We ran into Morgana and her men, and...” A shimmer of tears glazed Percival's eyes, his emotions always softer than his muscular body. “And Gwaine perished at her hands. She tortured him to death, to discover your whereabouts, Sire. Which is why we have to leave here. She is headed for Avalon, and she is still powerful. I'm not sure we can protect you, Arthur.”

Both men on the ground blanched visibly, though it was Arthur who spoke first.

“Gwaine! Dead? That courageous, impetuous, crazy knight gone? What horrors have my sister and her allies visited on this land,” he ground out between his teeth. “And for some I must carry the blame... But you are wrong, Percival. Morgana has done her worst. Merlin killed her. With Excalibur, since I was in no state to wield it. It seems a High Priestess can only be killed by a sword forged in a dragon's breath, and such is Excalibur, though I never knew. There was much I did not know, but that can be addressed when we get back home.”

At last, Arthur was aware of the man trembling by his side. “Merlin? What's wrong?” he asked kindly. “It is all right to weep, Merlin. I was wrong, all these years ago. Some men are worth crying for.” His voice was a little less wheezy, though he too swiped a hand across his eyes. Yet very quickly the friend gave way to the king, who would always shoulder his responsibilities, regardless how heavy was his heart. “But Percival is right, we have to start for Camelot, and since we only have one horse between us, it's going to take ages to reach safety.”

Arthur struggled to his feet, and was grateful when Percival took his arm.

“Sire, I found your horses back in the woods, while I was tracking Morgana. I assumed she must have spooked them, but they are here now and ready to be ridden.”

“Good man!” Arthur was stretching the aches and pains from his body, but being cautious not to strain his ribcage. “I can't say I was looking forward to the march.” 

“You didn't find her body?” Merlin asked, uncharacteristically sharp. His heart ached at the news of Gwaine's death, but the fact that there was no body scared him. “We were trying to get to Avalon on time, so we didn't hang around to bury her. Where could her body have gone?”

Percival shrugged. “I wasn't looking for a body, I was just following a trail, which I suddenly lost. It was while I was searching for more signs that I came across the horses. I recognised them as yours, but I had no idea what could have happened to you. My fear was that Morgana had found you, but I knew you were headed for Avalon, so I decided to come straight here. Believe me, I was hugely relieved when I saw you.”

Looking up at the brightening sky, Merlin assumed a fair day ahead, a decent day for a search. “Arthur, I know you're anxious to reach Camelot and Gwen, but we have to retrace our steps,” he advised, his voice edged with stress.

“You think she was still alive when we left her?” Arthur's face turned pale, and he leant more heavily on Percival's arm.

“No.” Merlin didn't hesitate in replying. “I felt the life leave her body...”

“But you think someone might have found her?” Arthur asked again.

“Who? The Saxons?” Percival suggested, helpfully. There was clearly some tension regarding Morgana's fate, which he didn't understand completely, but he was willing to prompt the conversation.

The young warlock shook his head. “I'd be happy if it were the Saxons. They would probably just bury her.”

“Then the Druids?” Arthur cut in quickly, his blue eyes catching Merlin's gaze. “But I have no quarrel with the Druids. I made my peace with them long ago. Wouldn't they just bury her too?”

“Not all the Druids accepted your terms, Arthur.” Merlin held his friend's stare with sympathy, while the knight between them glanced back and forth, totally mystified.

“True! Ruadan, Kara, and not to mention Mordred, though we do know they are all dead, don't we?” Arthur lifted his hand toward Merlin in an almost pleading gesture, seeking reassurance. Feeling weak didn't sit well with him. 

“They are, Arthur. I found Mordred's body on the battlefield close by you.”

“We fought, though it wasn't much of a fight, he wounded me and I killed him. How I wish it hadn't come to that, but there is nothing I can do to change the past.” Arthur ground the knuckles of his free hand into his eyes, silent for a moment, thinking. “I suppose there are others out there with similar agendas.” Finally, he asked, bleakly. “Could the Druids resurrect Morgana?”

There was a swift intake of breath from Percival, but neither Arthur nor Merlin acknowledged him, so intensely were they focused on their conversation.

“I'm not sure!” Merlin admitted. “I'm not wholly conversant with the powers of a High Priestess, but the Druids have used The Cup of Life to revive people, in the past.”

“And we don't know where that went, after it disappeared from Camelot,” Arthur added, somewhat bemused. “Along with Morgana and Morgause.”

“But they couldn't have taken it, surely,” Percival, at last, felt confident enough to comment. He'd only just arrived in Camelot when Arthur had retaken the city from Morgana and her sister, but he remembered the consternation, which had upgraded to almost panic, when neither the pair nor The Cup of Life could be found in the rubble. “If they'd had The Cup, wouldn't they have used it to heal Morgause? I never knew either one, but from what I've learned since, they had enough magic.”

“That's why we have to look for Morgana's body,” Merlin said, taking control. “It's probably paranoia, but I'd feel better knowing she was gone for good.” 

“I agree,” Arthur nodded his head with resolve. To tell the truth, he would much rather be riding for home, for the safety of Camelot, for the care of Gaius and for the warmth of Guinevere's arms. Yet, Morgana had been his nemesis for too many years, he needed to know for certain what had been her fate. “And the sooner we get started the sooner we can clear up the mystery and go home.”

“True, but I think we need to eat something first. You… I mean we, will be more able if we have breakfast.”

“Merlin, stop nagging. I'm fine.” Arthur tried to be optimistic about his condition, but failed miserably when he started coughing again.

“No, you're not!” Merlin folded his arms and stared Arthur down.

“Sire, I know it's not my place, but I'm backing Merlin here,” Percival added, looking embarrassed. “A couple of days ago you were seriously injured, and you still don't look too fit. Perhaps food would be a good idea.” Actually, Percival thought that eating would give Arthur more time to rest and calm down before they set off, and that had to be preferable to racing away like a set of demented banshees. “I have provisions with me, bread and cheese, some ale. I'm presuming you haven't eaten properly since you lost your horses?”

“Not unless you count Merlin's vegetable stew, which wasn't bad, surprisingly. But, you're both right,” Arthur admitted with some reluctance. “We'll eat first... quickly. I don't want to waste too much time.”

*****

The sun had risen fully, by the time the trio were ready to leave. Merlin watched closely as Arthur moved to mount his horse. The King had allowed Merlin and Percival to ready the horses, but that was no gauge of Arthur's fitness; being King, he often left the preparations to others, though mostly when he was back in Camelot. With his closest knights, he liked to drop the protocol and be one of the group. He did douse the fire without too much difficulty, but as he paused before his horse, he accepted Percival's offer of a 'leg up' with compliance. 

It made Merlin smile, poignantly, remembering a time when Arthur had used Merlin's back as a mounting block. Probably he'd annoyed Arthur somehow, and the royal prat had been making a point. Not that he'd enjoyed being stood on, but he'd gladly return to those times to see Arthur healthy and full of vigour again.

Once Arthur was settled in the saddle, he seemed to revive somewhat, mayhap feeling again he was in charge. He gave the order to move out.

They were soon heading back towards the forest where they had encountered Morgana, Arthur keeping up a steady pace, though not pushing the horses, or himself too hard. If only Arthur could accept that his strength had limitations, then life might not be too difficult, Merlin thought.

However, Merlin was soon to discover that life was never that easy. It was lunch time before they finally reached the spot where Morgana had perished. They made camp a short distance away, deciding to finish off the rest of the bread and cheese before starting the search. Directly the modest meal was over, Arthur sent Percival off hunting for their supper, while he tried to make himself more comfortable on the ground, not with great success.

“Merlin,” Arthur rasped, his breathing once again causing him pain. “For a powerful sorcerer, I've got to complain of your healing skills. I still feel as weak as a kitten.”

“Warlock. I prefer to be called Warlock,” Merlin huffed, his brain going into overdrive. It seemed the truth would need to be told sooner than he'd hoped; without a comfortable bed for Arthur, or Gwen's comforting presence. Maybe he could prevaricate for a time. “I'm sorry, Arthur, but you were critically injured. No amount of magic can heal that instantly. Your body will take time to recover, naturally.”

“All right. I can accept a bit of fragility, but this seems worse than that.”

Of course, this was Arthur! Stubborn, determined, wonderful idiot that he was, and he wasn't about to be put off with platitudes.

“There's a pain,” he continued, with as much nonchalance as he could muster. “Like I still have a sword stuck in my chest.”

So no prevarication either. Merlin heaved a sigh, praying Arthur would accept his prognosis. He had to sound as positive as possible.

“You feel like that because you do. To be accurate, you have a shard of Mordred's sword embedded in your chest, and I'm sorry, it was a sword forged in a dragon's breath. No matter how powerful I am, there is no way I can remove it, nor could Kilgarrah.” Merlin almost bit his tongue. How could he have been stupid enough to mention the dragon?

“Great! That's great,” Arthur squeaked, so clearly taken aback by this news, that the name Kilgarrah didn't sink in. “And you can't withdraw it?” There was a long moment of silence. “What about Gaius? Could he cut it out when we get back to Camelot?”

“I'm sorry, Arthur, but no. We would have taken you back to Camelot straight away, had that been possible. The blade is a magic one, and it's also too close to your heart to remove surgically.”

“So neither you nor Gaius can rid me of this... shard?”

“Arthur, it's why I was taking you to Avalon, to use Sidhe magic to save you.”

“And these Sidhe were the ones who cured me?” Again silence stretched between the friends, Merlin hoping that this interrogation would end for now, and Arthur wondering...

“Just what did you promise these Sidhe to mend me?”

“Nothing!” Merlin cried, blind-sided by that unexpected question. “You owe nothing to anyone.”

“So these magic people just healed me out of the goodness of their hearts?” 

Merlin was sad that Arthur still sounded sceptical. Hadn't they got past that stage. “Arthur, I thought we'd already established that not all people of magic are evil or mercenary,” he said, unable to hide his hurt.

Another painful silence occurred, until finally Arthur spoke. “Sorry, Merlin. You're right, of course. I guess getting rid of the habits of a lifetime isn't as easy as I thought. If these Sidhe did so much for me, then I must repay them, if it's just offering the freedom to live their lives in peace.”

“No!” Merlin shouted.

“No?” Arthur's spine stiffened, taken unawares by Merlin's vehemence. 

“In truth, The Sidhe aren't all that good. Arthur, my friend, there is much for you to learn about magic. Who you can trust, and who you need to beware, and The Sidhe are such a people.”

Looking totally mystified, Arthur questioned slowly, “Then you coerced them into helping me, because you are more powerful... but if that's the truth, why can't you heal me and they can?”

A wry grin crossed Merlin's face. “Arthur, have patience. I know that's difficult for you. Magic isn't straightforward, and I will teach you all you need to know, in time. But forget The Sidhe for now. To tell the truth, we never reached them.”

“We didn't? Then who helped you cure me, since it seems you couldn't heal me alone?”

“Kilgarrah.”

“Who is Kilgarrah? Some other sorc... warlock you want me to meet.”

“Not exactly.” Merlin winced as he admitted at last. “Kilgarrah is otherwise known as The Great Dragon.”

Aghast, Arthur backed away. “The same dragon that my father held prisoner beneath Camelot? The same one that almost destroyed our home?”

Reaching his hands out to stop Arthur's scuttling away, Merlin replied, “Yes. But he was angry then. Enraged by the cruel treatment he'd received at Uther's hands, and the fact that your father had killed all his kind... and he didn't have a dragonlord to control his base instincts.”

“That's why we looked for Balinor. But Balinor died. Just as you told me I had slain the dragon.” Arthur joined the pieces of the puzzle in his mind, while Merlin watched in dread. “Now it appears the dragon was never dead, and you seem to be great friends with Kilgarrah!” The emphasis he placed on his last statement proved The King was not amused. “Do you want to explain that, Merlin?”

Merlin's shoulders drooped. There was no going back. “Balinor was my father, though I never knew till Gaius sent us to look for him. When a dragonlord dies, his gift passes to his son, which meant I could control the dragon. That night in the glade, when you were unconscious, I spoke to Kilgarrah, ordered him to desist. He promised he would never attack Camelot again, or any of mankind, and he flew off. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't. Uther would have had me executed.”

Rage leached out of Arthur like water through a sieve. He knew he should still be angered at all those deaths so many years ago, yet there had been tit-for-tat killings enough, and sympathy for his friend's suffering overrode all other emotions. 

“I'm sorry, Merlin.” He moved closer and squeezed the younger man's shoulder. “You found and lost your father in the space of a day. I didn't know. I always felt Balinor was a good man. Another good man wronged by my father... When I think how he ruined your life and your family's, I'm surprised you have anything to do with me.” 

“Arthur, you said we can't dwell in the past. It's been a very long time since I regretted being your servant, and I have never been sorry to call you friend. And maybe I'm crazy, but I feel Balinor is still with me.” Merlin was transported back to the Crystal Cave only a few days ago and his meeting with his father's spirit. He'd believed every word they'd shared... that he would never be alone.

“What's wrong with crazy? I feel like I'm living some kind of dream,” Arthur admitted with a small smile. “I should be dead, if it weren't for this dragon of yours. I'm assuming, since you're on first name terms with the dragon, that you've met up with him often.” 

“Now and then. Even when Kilgarrah was still a prisoner in Camelot, he was helping me defend you.” Merlin laughed aloud, recalling his arrival in Camelot. “It was he who told me that it was my destiny to protect you. You and I had just met, and it was animosity at first sight, but Kilgarrah knew better. He also warned me about Morgana turning against us. At first, I wouldn't believe him, and it hurt to slowly realise that he was right. I can't say he never said 'I told you so', he's not that kind of dragon, but he has been helping me fight against Morgana and Mordred ever since.”

“Then, if he's done so much for me and Camelot, I should thank him, particularly for my life. How does this work? Can you summon him, since you're a dragonlord?”

Tears welled in Merlin's eyes again. “Once I could, but no more.”

“Saving me was his final act of support for my kingdom?” Arthur sounded more disappointed than mad. “I understand, and I don't blame him. Having lost all his kin at my father's hand, I could hardly expect him to stick around for a chat.”

“Saving you was his final act, ever.” Merlin wiped the tears that threatened to overflow. He was turning into a well! “Dragon's live for over a thousand years, but Kilgarrah had finally reached the end of his span. He was already very frail when I called him, loaning you his strength took all he had left. When he managed to fly away, I knew it was to die...”

“He gave his life for me?” Arthur asked with awe. “Why would he do that?”

Clearly, Arthur was shaken, as his blue eyes flooded with tears. This time it was Merlin who comforted The King.

“Because he believed in the Albion we would create together. A land where magic would be recognised for a force for good, not only for evil.”

With eyes still misted with tears and a smile that came straight from his heart, so sincere that it drew all people who saw it to his side, Arthur made his vow. “Then a toast, to a future United Albion, where all people and sentient beings shall live in peace, prosperity and justice.” He lifted his beaker of water and he and Merlin toasted the future.

“I'll drink to that,” Percival said, striding back into the camp site, throwing a couple of rabbits down by the fire. “And hunting is thirsty work.”

Merlin quickly poured the knight a cup of water, which Percival lifted high towards The King. “To Camelot and Albion.”

Arthur and Merlin acknowledged the toast, then watched in amazement as Percival downed three lots of water. Still, he was a very big man. The Warlock made a note to replenish their water supply before evening, while, inwardly, thanking Percival's reappearance, which successfully postponed, again, the discussion on Arthur's health. For the greatest warlock ever, he really was a terrible coward, but, to tell the truth, he didn't want to dispel this close sense of amity between himself and Arthur.

The rest of the afternoon was spent searching for Morgana's corpse and, though Arthur did take part, Merlin stayed close to him to make sure he rested frequently. Thankfully, Percival had searched in the direction he'd gone while hunting, so it slightly narrowed the field. He also covered more ground than King and Warlock together. However, Merlin did have his secret weapon, and scoured the land around them with magic, still surreptitiously, unsure how Percival would react to a confession of sorcery. 

All their toil was to no avail. Morgana's body was gone, but how or why they couldn't discover. It was as if she had disappeared into the very fabric of the world, and neither one was happy with that state of affairs.

Around the camp fire, that night, as they enjoyed their spit roasted rabbit, one of Merlin's dilemmas was addressed from an unexpected direction.

“So, we can conclude that someone or something spirited my sister's body away, or she might have come back to life?” Arthur mused, then flummoxed Merlin by asking directly, “And your magic can't define which?”

“My magic?” Merlin's voice rose almost off the scale, while sending Arthur a telling look.

“Yes, Merlin.” Arthur returned his stare steadily, clearly feeling that he had the right to 'out' his friend “The magic you've been using to protect Camelot and everyone who belongs therein. If you're worried about what Percival thinks, I'm sure your concerns are unfounded. Sir Percival has always struck me as a very reasonable man, and if his king acknowledges and accepts your gifts, then Percival will too. Won't you?”

Two pairs of eyes swung towards the knight, one almost pleading, the other slightly defiant.

“Sire?” Percival glanced from one to the other, then back to Arthur. He had no idea what was going on, but guessed he was on the verge of hearing some life-altering information. “Someone has magic?”

A roughish grin lit Arthur's face, and set Merlin to counting the many different smiles Arthur had stocked in his larder, and deciding, at present, this wasn't a favourite. 

“Oh, yes, Merlin here is a sorcerer... no, that's incorrect. He prefers to be called a warlock.” The King was having some fun at his servant's expense, but it wasn't hard to hide the fact that he was beginning to be proud of Merlin's achievements, too. “The old man on the battlefield with his lightning bolts was Merlin, so, technically, it was he who won the battle.”

“That's definitely false,” Merlin declared, hunching his shoulders in embarrassment. “I admit I helped, but each one in Camelot's army did their part. We all used our respective gifts to defeat the Saxon, and I'd hoped Morgana, but, after what we didn't find today, perhaps the latter assumption is wrong.”

A dumbfounded Percival, who was processing what he'd heard, missed Merlin's words about the lack of Morgana's body, and concentrated only on verification of The King's statement.  
“Merlin is a warlock?”

“Keep up, Percival,” Arthur said, with only a little hint of exasperation. “I've already told you Merlin has magic. In fact, very powerful magic. Now, I know that is hard to believe, but it is true. He's been hiding his talents for years. He and I have discussed his reasons, and while I'm not totally comfortable that he didn't trust me with the truth, I do understand why.”

Arthur took a deep breath, which caught in his throat, but he thumped his chest, which caused Merlin to flinch. Arthur really ought not to do that. Finally, The King coughed and continued, hoarsely. “Percival, I'm not sure how you view magic, but Merlin is my friend, a friend to all in Camelot, in fact, and I ask you to accept him as such.”

“Sire, I'm a plain speaking man, and, to be honest, I've never given sorcery much thought, apart from my revulsion at all the Lady Morgana has done to you and yours.” Percival's eyes narrowed, as if reliving Gwaine's last moments. “I've always held Merlin in high esteem, and, personally, I don't care if he's the mightiest sorcerer ever to walk the earth, because I trust him.”

King and Warlock smiled at Percival's simple acknowledgement.

“You've actually got it right, Percival. It seems Merlin is the most powerful warlock ever, and I'm just glad he's on our side.”

“Thank you, Percival.” Merlin blushed and offered his hand to Percival. The knight's firm handshake gladdened his heart.

“I wish the rest of my court will recognise Merlin the Warlock with as much goodwill. I fear it will not be so easy, but it's good to know we can rely on you, Percival. If the knights stand with us, I'm sure we can win over the hearts and minds of the people.” Again Arthur coughed, a dry racking bark, and, once more there was silence. This time it was Merlin and Percival who exchanged worried glances. “Unfortunately, I'm not convinced the councillors and nobles will approve so readily. Well, they will have to learn to like it, because I am adamant. The time for sweeping, senseless acts of retribution is over.”

“Sire, I know many of the knights will follow wherever you lead,” Percival said, with a dip of his head. “And as you've just destroyed the Saxons and Morgana, I'm sure the citizens of Camelot will be ready to accept whatever you tell them.”

“We all defeated our enemy,” Arthur replied somewhat humbly. “But I hope you're right. Now, if you forgive me, this has been a long day, and I'm tired. Dying takes it out of you, you know. I need to sleep.”

“Wait, Arthur!” Merlin scrambled towards his saddle bag and drew out a small bottle containing a little of the tincture Kilgarrah had taught him and which he'd managed to find time to perfect earlier. “I have a potion here that will help you rest. Might even sooth that cough you've got from sleeping on the cold ground.”

Arthur grimaced. “Do I have to?”

“Don't be so gormless, Arthur!” Merlin once more reversed their roles. He watched as his friend downed the medicine, then lay back on his blanket. “I think tomorrow we should head for Camelot. We can send out bigger patrols to scour the countryside for Morgana's remains.”

“I agree. I can't wait to get back to Guinevere.” Arthur smiled and settled to sleep very quickly, looking a little paler than he had earlier in the day.

Back at the fire, the other two sat in companionable silence, till Arthur's gentle snores invaded the darkness. Percival sat up straighter and, tentatively, asked. “That cough isn't from a cold?”

Another long silence stretched on and on, while Percival squirmed where he sat. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't...”

“No, Percival. You are only worried for a friend, but I do need to talk to Arthur first, and I'd rather have that conversation back in Camelot, with Guinevere at Arthur's side.” Merlin pondered for a couple of moments, then finally decided he could tell Percival a little of the truth. “But there is some cause for concern, and I need you to help me keep an eye on Arthur. Make sure he doesn't overtax his strength on this journey.”

This time it was Percival who took some seconds to answer, and his answer proved there was more to the large knight than a plain talking man. “Perhaps we could play up that cough as Arthur having caught a cold. I mean, you did say he almost died.”

A slow smile spread across Merlin's face. “You are devious, Percival. I'd rather not lie to Arthur again, but if it will make our journey easier, then a little misdirection might be preferable.”

“You're pretty skilled at that, Merlin, especially where Arthur is concerned. But The King's correct. We should get some sleep, if we want to make it back to Camelot by tomorrow nightfall.”

“If we're to do that, won't we have to travel fast?” Merlin enquired, looking anxious. “I'm not sure that would be best for Arthur.”

Percival's large shoulders lifted. “Probably not, but I doubt Arthur will give you a choice. He wants to be home!”

The knight's words were reinforced as a muffled murmur from The King reached their ears. Even said quietly, there was no mistaking the longing in the whispered...

“Guinevere!”

*****


	4. Home Is The Heart

Chapter Four  
Home Is The Heart

In truth, Percival's words were prophetic, as long after dark the following day, the weary trio rode up to the gates of the city. Merlin had tried his very best to persuade Arthur that one more night away from Camelot would not matter much in the grand scheme of life. Percival had even suggested that resting for the night might be preferable to reaching the citadel tired and sweaty, but Arthur was deaf to suggestions.

He sensed that Camelot was within his reach and he'd get there this very night, even if it killed him. Watching their ashen-faced king reel in the saddle, neither knight nor warlock could say with any certainty that his might not be the outcome.

But the citadel had been on high alert. Sir Leon had posted guards outside the city walls, and the soldiers had sent messages immediately The King and his tiny entourage were spotted. 

Guinevere needed no warning. For the past few days, The Queen had climbed to the highest watchtower to search the countryside for any sign of her husband returning. Till now, Gaius had coaxed her to her chambers to rest, but this night she had refused to move. Perhaps her heart knew, and Gaius hadn't the will to trouble her, for he too had a premonition that Merlin was near. Instead, Gaius brought Guinevere an ermine lined cloak to keep out the chill air, then he sat by her side as they waited for their loved ones to appear.

When The Queen's younger, sharper gaze first caught sight of the group approaching the drawbridge, she was off running, through the door and down the never-ending stairs, pelting helter-skelter, without thought for her own safety, to reach the courtyard where her husband was arriving.

From the top of the main staircase in the square, Guinevere halted, frozen, in the doorway, stunned by the sight of Arthur. Gaius had told her Arthur had been sorely injured, but since he had also added that Merlin had taken him to a place where he could be saved, she didn't expect to see Arthur so ghostly pale, or such dark shadows carved beneath his eyes, or the fact that Merlin and Percival were flanking him, apparently holding him erect.

But her hesitation lasted mere seconds, then she was hurrying to his side. Perhaps it was the trick of the fickle moonlight, or the shifting flames in the braziers that lit the quadrangle, which created the terrifying spectre in her mind that they had brought her husband home to die!

“Arthur!” Her cry burst forth, filled with both joy and dread.

Yet, his heavy eyelids opened, and he gazed at her with tenderness, and with love. The look he reserved for her alone.

“Guinevere,” he said softly. “It's good to be home.” He paused to recover his breath. “There was a time there when I thought I wouldn't make it.”

“And it's a wonder that you did!” grumbled Merlin, showing his usual irreverence for Arthur's rank. “Guinevere, he wouldn't rest. We told him.” Merlin gestured across Arthur's horse to Percival. “But the idiot pushed himself far too hard for someone just recovered from a life threatening wound.”

Between his two friends, Arthur managed to dismount, or probably slipped from his saddle, into the arms of the guards who had accompanied The Queen. As they went to support Arthur, he batted their arms away.

“I can walk,” he said, then promptly stumbled as his gaze took in the flight of stairs. They'd never appeared like a mountain to him before.

Fortunately, Merlin was not in awe of The King. “Don't be a dollop-head. You're exhausted, so just do as you're told.”

Then Percival replaced one of the guards and scooped Arthur into his arms, continuing to climb the stairs and into the palace, with help from the guards who took some of Arthur's weight. 

Gwen stood watching, fearful because her husband didn't object further, then a hand was placed gently on her arm, and Merlin leaned closer to her.

“Don't be so anxious, Gwen,” he said, trying to sound reassuring, though, in all honesty, he too had concerns. “He probably looks worse than he is. We've been riding hard all day, with only short breaks to rest the horses. Arthur made up his mind to reach Camelot and you tonight, and there was no gainsaying him.”

“He really is a dollop-head,” she replied, with a tiny smile of wry humour. “Believe me, I would have rather waited another day, than welcome home a corpse.”

Merlin and Guinevere followed the group carrying The King, though the others were already at the top of the inside stairs and well on their way to the royal chambers, where Gaius was waiting; a chamber which resembled an infirmary rather than a solar.

Gaius had known Arthur would need tending, and Gwen had insisted on taking on many of the nursing duties herself; therefore, the old physician had brought all his supplies and instruments with him. If Merlin got Arthur back alive, Gaius was determined to keep him that way, though even he was shocked at the sight of The King.

Not too much later, after much groaning and some petulance, Arthur was ensconced in his large bed with Gwen sitting by his side.

“You're treating me like an invalid!” he announced, his blue eyes verging on stormy. 

The group in the room had grown, since Sir Leon, too, had come to welcome his king home, and assure himself that Arthur was still in the land of the living.

Now they each exchanged uneasy glances, but it was Gaius who chose to speak.

“I'm sorry, Sire, if it upsets you, but you are only a day or two away from dying. When I left you last, I wasn't sure if we would ever meet again, and, I must say, it does my old eyes good to see you. But, you are still recuperating, and I would not be doing my duty if I did not advise you to rest, and take your medicine.” Gaius spoke authoritatively, hoping to distract his patient.

“Please, Arthur, be good,” Gwen pleaded, adding her influence. “You've had a long day in the saddle, and you need to do as Gaius says.” She squeezed Arthur's hand which was clasped firmly in her own. “You forget, I thought I was going to lose you, but you've come back, and I'm sorry if you find my fussing annoying, but I can't help it. You'll just have to put it down to my being a silly, emotional woman.” Gwen allowed her tears to fall, but whether to persuade Arthur, or were involuntary, she couldn't tell. Whichever they were, they did their job.

“Guinevere, don't cry. I too thought I'd never see you again, and though I was prepared to die to save my kingdom, the reality of it was much harder to bear than I'd supposed.” With a trembling hand he wiped away her tears. “And if I'm honest, I am exhausted. Sleep sounds very welcoming, if you will stay with me.”

“I will never leave you,” Gwen promised without hesitation, meaning every word.

Meanwhile, Gaius approached the bed and handed Arthur a small vial. “Drink this first, Arthur. It will help you rest.”

True to his word, Arthur did as he was bid, then scowled with disgust. “That's as bad tasting as the concoction Merlin's been dosing me with.”

“That's because it is the same,” Gaius answered with some relief. Merlin had transferred the recipe telepathically, and the old physician was just learning to use this form of communication, so was happy he'd got his instructions right.

“That was quick,” Arthur said, handing back the empty glass, but then enlightenment hit. “I see. You've been speaking to Merlin all this time.” Spotting the bewildered look on Leon's face, Arthur added, “Merlin, as Leon is the only person in the room who doesn't understand what we're talking about, I think you should explain everything. Guinevere, it's probably best that you listen to the whole story too, but please come back afterwards. Oh, and the information you're about to learn from Merlin, I don't want repeating to anyone else for the present.” For a brief second, Arthur was the strong commander again. “This is important. We have to plan our strategy for announcing magic is no longer outlawed... safeguards will be needed to placate those who fear it. We will meet tomorrow...”

But this was the longest speech Arthur had given since returning, and he couldn't retain his composure. His voice faded as he involuntary relaxed on his pillows, his breathing deepening. Suddenly, he felt too tired to hold his eyelids open, and with a contented sigh, he sank into sleep, leaving his friends staring, with varying degrees of stupefaction, at Merlin.

*****

Since Arthur was deeply comatose, his friends clustered round the table at the far side of the chamber. Gwen and Gaius had drawn the curtains of the four-poster bed, to give The King some privacy and quiet, but, with everyone conscious of Arthur's need to rest, they kept their voices low.

In truth, they kept silent as they listened to Merlin's tale. The Warlock literally obeyed Arthur's instructions of telling the 'whole' story and started at the beginning; how he was born with magic, and how as a youth he'd come to Camelot and, in a strange twist of fate, been appointed servant to Prince Arthur.

How he'd discovered, from The Great Dragon himself, that his destiny was forever linked to Arthur's. Not that he'd been particularly happy with that news, at first, but how he'd accepted his role to protect Arthur during his many adventures, his ascension to the throne, and his dangerous battles to keep hold of his crown. How, over the years, the two men had been drawn together, despite their difference in status, then learned to love each other as brothers, and how, finally, Merlin had chosen to reveal his true nature to The King, whose first reaction had been one of shock and revulsion, then, little by little, Arthur had come to terms with Merlin's magic.

Merlin spoke quickly, giving his listeners a fairly abridged version of his earlier years with Arthur; after all, most of the people around the table were witnesses to parts of the story, if each had their own version of said events. However, he filled in more details of the days they'd spent together since Camlann, even going so far as to tell them of Kilgarrah's part in saving Arthur's life.

They listened carefully, and some were astounded by Merlin's confessions, though not all. Gaius had known Merlin's secret from the day they met, and Gwen had cleverly pieced the puzzle together in the past few days, while Percival had been with them part of the way home, but none had known completely what had befallen Merlin and Arthur on their journey to Avalon.

It was a tale of high courage, sacrifice and trust beyond measure, and Queen, Physician and Knights could not fail to be moved by what they heard. Still it was a lot to process, and Sir Leon, who had been the last to be let in on the secret, decided he needed time to become accustomed to the new order Arthur had decreed. He wasn't totally sure he felt happy about magic being part of the future Arthur hoped to build, and Percival, realising his friend's hesitation, decided to take him off for a little one-on-one discussion. Perhaps life would look brighter by morning.

“I hope Sir Leon can come to terms with this new age of Camelot,” Gwen said slowly, her hand gripping the edge of the table so hard her knuckles paled. “His family were staunch supporters of Uther's purge on magic.”

“I remember. His grandfather blamed sorcery for the death of Leon's father.” Gaius stroked his chin, casting his mind back. “Sir Lionel took an arrow in his leg during one of Uther's forays against The Isle of The Blessed. It was not a mortal injury, but the wound putrefied and poor Lionel died. Since they were fighting sorcerers, magic was blamed, but I could find no proof to back up that claim. I'm afraid Uther's hatred for the Old Religion encouraged many grieving people to blame magic for natural occurrences.” Gaius paused, his breath ragged as he contemplated that terrible time, then he shook himself. Thankfully, those days were long past. The laws against magic might still stand, but Arthur did not prosecute wilfully. “Gwen, I don't think you need worry over much now,” the old physician said. “Leon has become one of Arthur's most trusted servants. I'm sure he'd follow him into the mouth of hell, even if he didn't wholly approve of Arthur's reasons for doing so.”

Gwen offered up a grateful smile. “I expect you're right. Forgive me, I'm very tired,” she addressed both men left standing at her side. “These last few days have been very stressful... for all of us.”

Merlin nodded. “Perhaps we should take a leaf out of Leon's and Percival's book and sleep on it.”

Another tired sigh escaped Gwen's lips. “That might be the obvious course of action, but I'm afraid, Merlin, we are not done here.” She caught his gaze and stared him down. “Please be seated, both of you.,” she suggested, sitting herself at her usual place by Arthur's empty seat. “Now, Merlin, tell me what you left out of your exceptional story.”

Merlin almost fell onto the chair, looking flustered, for the first time. “I don't understand. Gwen, I have told you all that happened.”

“Perhaps the actions, but not the consequences... and I have known Gaius long enough to know that he is also concerned about the missing details.” Guinevere leaned over the table and placed her hand over Merlin's. “I'm not angry, but I need you to be honest about Arthur's state of health. I've nursed enough patients to know Arthur is not completely cured. Besides, after every injury he's had before, he's recovered quickly.”

Still Merlin remained silent, feeling that in light of his promise to Arthur of full disclosure, Arthur really ought to be the first to know, but Gaius spoke up, stoically.

“Merlin, my boy, I think I understand why you are reluctant, but you are speaking to the two people in this world who have Arthur's well being at the centre of their hearts. Not to mention that you will need us to help keep him safe. The task is too great for you alone.”

“Please, what aren't you telling us, Merlin?” Gwen did not let go of his hand, nor relinquish his gaze.

As if the air had deflated from his body, Merlin seemed to shrink. “You're right, both of you.” His voice lowered to little more than a whisper. He rose and walked quickly to the bed, pulling back the drapes to reveal a sleeping Arthur. The last thing Merlin wanted was for Arthur to discover his true condition by eavesdropping, but The King was deeply unconscious.

“I'm afraid that Arthur still carries the shard of Mordred's sword in his chest. We only reached the shores of Avalon, and that only with Kilgarrah's help.” Tears welled anew in Merlin's eyes, as he walked slowly closer to Gwen and Gaius. “Arthur was dying, in fact, I thought him dead for a few moments. I was beside myself with grief, my heart breaking, and finally Kilgarrah relented and told me, though he did not have the strength to remove the shard, he could halt its passage. It wasn't a cure, but it would enable Arthur to live on.”

Guinevere smothered her tears, and distress coloured her every word. “But why couldn't the metal be removed?”

This time, Gaius took up the explanation, giving Merlin time to compose himself again. “Guinevere, as I explained, the shard is from a sword forged in a dragon's breath. It would take the strongest and oldest magic in the world to remove it.”

The Queen fell silent, as her head sank into her hands. Had she truly found Arthur only to lose him again? Yet Gaius was continuing, and she knew it was important that she listen to all that was said.

“Merlin, why did you not continue to Avalon, after Kilgarrah worked his magic? The Sidhe have just as powerful magic as the dragons...”

“Do you really think we would have been welcome on the Isle of Avalon?” Merlin cut in, his voice harsh. “The Sidhe have no love for me or Arthur. And Kilgarrah taught me a spell that would continue to halt the shard's progress. I felt it would be best to bring him back here to recover some of his strength...”

Now Gwen interrupted. “Some of his strength? Are you telling me that Arthur will never be completely well?”

“I'm sorry, Gwen,” Gaius answered again, since Merlin was having difficulty containing his emotions. “I believe that is what Merlin is trying to say.”

Guinevere sat back in her chair, her warm skin blanched the colour of ancient parchment. She swallowed. “He doesn't know, does he?”

“No,” Merlin shook his head, his cheeks now wet with his tears. “I know I promised him complete honesty, but I felt he should be here with you when he heard the whole truth.”

“Arthur, my poor love,” Gwen groaned, her eyes closed tightly, and her hand covering her mouth to still her sobs. This would not be a good time for Arthur to wake. “He will hate that,” she whispered.

“But, Guinevere, it is better than dying,” Gaius said gently. “Arthur is much too valuable to you and Camelot to lose him now.”

“You talk of him as if he were an object!” Gwen hissed in frustration.

“No, never that,” the old man denied her accusation. “I have known him since he was a babe, and I love him dearly. But he is a king, my dear, and kings have a duty to their people. Arthur is more aware of that than any other ruler I have ever known. He might not like being... less than he was,” even Gaius was reluctant to mention the word invalid. “But he will understand his kingdom needs his wise council.”

“And more than that, Gwen,” Merlin, at last, joined the conversation. “The people love and respect Arthur. I doubt they would follow any other in what he means to do. For the love of Camelot, Arthur will learn to fight a different kind of battle.”

Guinevere stifled another sob, her chin lifting in determination. She knew Merlin was right, her husband was one who would never quit a fight, and there would be a fight ahead. And this time, she could stay by his side, lending him her strength. “I'm sorry,” she said, swiping her damp eyes with her hand. “Of course, you are right. Both of you. But Arthur will need our support. When you tell him, Merlin, and tell him you must, I want to be there.”

“Yes! Of course.” Merlin nodded with conviction. “It's why I chose to bring him home. Arthur will need you more than anyone, Gwen.” Merlin moved round the table to Gwen's side, his hand resting on her shoulder. He felt rather ambivalent at what he was about to say. Was it wrong to offer a glimmer of hope, when there might be none? Yet he must do what his heart told him. He plunged ahead. “And things might not be so hopeless as they seem. Dragon's magic is also very powerful. Kilgarrah couldn't remove the shard because he himself was old and dying, but there is another dragon. She is called Aithusa...”

“The white dragon that attacked us on the battlefield?” Gwen asked, her spirit reviving at the merest hint of good news. “But if she attacked us, why would she help us now?”

“Because I am a dragonlord, and, when I speak to her in the ancient tongue, she has to do my bidding.”

“You could command her to heal Arthur completely?” Guinevere pushed herself back from the table and stood. “Why didn't you say?”

Merlin didn't flinch from the blaze of happiness that flared in his friend's eyes. “Gwen, it might not be as easy as that. For one, Aithusa was bound to Morgana, though why that should be so, I couldn't say. Since Morgana's death, I have no idea where she has gone, and she may not be inclined to help those who killed her mistress.”

With a shake of her head, Guinevere replied, “But you are a dragonlord. Doesn't she have to obey you? She did at Camlann. She flew off at your command.”

Merlin considered his reply for some moments. “That is also true, but she might have gone too far away for me to reach her. I'm still learning the extent of my own powers, and of what being a dragonlord entails. And, in all honesty, I'm not comfortable ordering anyone around...”

“Merlin, you must!” Guinevere backed away, standing tall. She looked every inch a queen.

“I will, if it means Arthur can be well again,” Merlin quickly assured Gwen, taking hold of her trembling hands and leading her back to her chair. “That is not the only problem, however. Aithusa is only a few years old, very young in dragon terms, plus, she is not well. She has been treated very badly, and it has left her deformed. She has no voice.” Sorrow leached through Merlin's every word. “She may not have the power we need.”

“Wait! I know something of this dragon,” Gwen said dazedly, her eyes staring at nothing at all. “She was imprisoned in a dungeon with Morgana. A pit so small, she could not grow properly. Her gaoler was a cruel man; he revelled in Aithusa's screams...”

Guinevere shuddered, and it seemed she stopped breathing for a long moment. Finally, her glance stricken, she turned to Merlin. “How do I know that?”

Some time ago, Gwen had been kidnapped by Morgana and subjected to the terrifying ritual of The Teine Diaga, where she had lost her soul to The High Priestess. For weeks, under the influence of Morgana, Gwen had carried out some dreadful orders, including trying to kill Arthur, murdering an innocent servant who might betray her, frame Merlin and undermine Camelot's peace.

The longer her enchantment lasted, the further the true Guinevere drifted from her loved ones, yet Merlin had been determined to save The Queen, for Arthur's sanity and for her own dear sake. Finally, he'd discovered a way to rescue her from Morgana's deranged clutches.

At the Cauldron of Arianrhod, she had been brought back by Merlin's magic and Arthur's love, but the unexpected, yet probably kindest result of the cleansing had been that Guinevere had no recollection of the crimes she had committed. Knowing well Gwen's kind and compassionate nature, Arthur, Merlin and Gaius had concluded that her lack of memory was most likely a blessing.

Now, both Merlin and Gaius were troubled by Guinevere's words and her final question. Was she beginning to remember, and how devastatingly traumatic would that be for her?Unconsciously, both came to the similar conclusion... to stall for time until Arthur could be consulted.

“Perhaps you overheard a conversation, milady,” Gaius proposed, as casually as he could muster. “We've had a lot of state visits to Camelot these past months, and many boring banquets with people I'm sure you'd rather not socialise with. It's one of the lessons of kingship that Arthur has learned well, that you cannot always choose your allies on their strength of character. Anyone of them could have recounted that story.”

Merlin leaped to support Gaius's misdirection. “Oh, yes. Wasn't there that awful leader, eh... can't remember his name right now...”

“You mean Sarrum of Amata,” Gaius added helpfully.

“Yes, that's the one. Now he was scary. I'm glad I was away for most of his visit.” Merlin pushed his hand through his hair, totally ignoring his memory of what had really happened to him while Arthur signed an alliance with Sarrum. “What did you think of him, Gwen?” He held his breath while waiting for an answer, praying that The Queen wouldn't remember her part in the attempted assassination, yet anxious to sound out what she really did recall.

Her brows drawn down, it was clear Gwen was searching her memory, and both men waited in trepidation. “Yes...” she answered, as if feeling her way. “He was a fearsome man. Thank god his assassin failed to kill Arthur and struck down his master instead. They did try to kill Arthur, didn't they?”

“Indeed they did, your highness, and I'm glad the alliance was never formed. Camelot can well do without friends such as those. ” Gaius allowed himself a small sigh of relief, but decided a change of the subject might be necessary. “But that is all behind us now. You look tired, Gwen, and we must be rested to answer Arthur's questions in the morning.”

Merlin dived right in. “I'm sure he'll have plenty of those. I don't know about you two, but I'd like to have a clear mind when I face him.”

Guinevere had lifted a hand to her head as Gaius had been speaking, but she lowered it now and regarded Merlin with tired eyes. “You have a point, Merlin. Gaius, you should go to your rooms to rest, I've kept you up far too long.”

Gaius bowed. “Don't worry about me, my dear,” he said, with a depth of kindness that gave balm to her soul. “It's very strange, but the older you get it seems the less sleep you need. Goodnight, Guinevere, and try not to worry.”

Merlin too bowed and was about to take his leave with Gaius when Gwen forestalled him. “Merlin, I've had them make up the room next door for you. I, and I'm sure Arthur, feel safer having you close at hand.”

“Thank you, Gwen. If you, or Arthur need anything during the night, just call me.”

“I intend to,” Gwen answered with a faint trace of a smile. She walked quietly to the side of the bed. Her hand reached out to stroke Arthur's blond hair, discovering, with relief, that his skin was just warm to the touch. “But he looks peacefully asleep. I'm sure he'll stay that way till morning.”

“That's because I put a sleeping draught in the potion,” Gaius explained. “Rest is one of the best medicines for him. You should sleep too, Gwen. Physician's orders.”

“Wait, Gaius. I didn't think. Perhaps you would like a bed closer than the one in your quarters?”

“No, no, my child. Old bones also like familiar surroundings, but thank you for your care of me.”

“Then I bid you goodnight,” Gwen smiled tenderly on the two people she considered part of her family.

“Will you be able to sleep?” Merlin couldn't help but worry for the one-time serving girl who had been his first friend in Camelot, and who was now this enduring and compassionate queen.

“Now he is home with me, I think I could sleep through a thunder storm.” And to reinforce her words, she laid gently on the bed by Arthur's side, careful not to wake him.

Merlin and Gaius made to depart, when she called to them, quietly but tensely, proving she wasn't totally at ease. “Have either of you decided what we should tell him?”

Merlin glanced quickly at Gaius, but didn't need his support. “The truth... all of it. It's what I promised him.”

*****


	5. A Hard Truth

Chapter Five  
A Hard Truth

Unfortunately, for the nerves of the three people who had a truth to tell, Arthur slept later than normal.

Gwen had only napped throughout the night, waking often to check that her husband was really beside her and that he was still breathing. The guttering candles in the wall-sconces had gleamed off her tears, as she lightly traced the contours of his cheek and jaw, lingering on his lips, which she dared not kiss, too afraid she might wake him. But she needed to touch him, reassure herself she wasn't dreaming. 

Yet his sleep was so deep, so soundless, almost like a state of coma, and she could hardly believe she would welcome his snoring. A fleeting grin crossed her face as she remembered the first time he'd stayed in her home in the town, and she'd thought she had given haven to a pig! How had a serving girl had the audacity to tell a prince that? And how indignant he'd been, yet how much they had laughed over it all.

That time had been the beginning of their love affair, only they'd had to weather many storms before their marriage, and many since. This... illness... slight illness, was just another they would get through together.

In the room next door, Merlin had assumed that he would not be able to sleep either, yet the stress, physical and emotional, of the last few days had taken its toll, even on the world's most powerful warlock, and he did sleep, if fitfully. His night was filled with dreams of losing Arthur, or of Arthur turning against him and his magic, after he revealed to The King that he might never be totally well again.

While Arthur wasn't the arrogant, supercilious prince of long ago, he was still a man who was proud of his physical prowess. How would he adjust to a life less active? It was true he no longer had to prove himself on the jousting field, but he had enjoyed the art and exercise of pitting himself against another well-trained knight. The King's first instinct would probably be pleasure in that he still lived, but as the years went by, would he learn to live with his disability or come to resent it?

All these thoughts plagued Merlin's sleep, and he woke with a determination to discover a way to cure Arthur completely. What was the point in being this immortal warlock, if he couldn't help his friend? 

Gaius was the only one of the three who slept soundly. This didn't mean that he was less concerned than Gwen or Merlin, but as one who had witnessed a life time of trials and triumphs, he was more optimistic about Arthur's reaction. The boy might mourn the loss of his physical strength, but he had grown into a wise, level-headed king. Arthur would prevail; he was certain of it.

To tell the truth, Gaius was more anxious about Gwen's returning memory. Over the past few days, The Queen had experienced the horror of battle, the worry of not knowing where her husband was and the death of a dear friend. Discovering she was a murderer and traitor, might be enough to push her over the edge, even if she hadn't been responsible for any of her actions at the time.

Arthur's health wasn't the only subject which needed addressing. 

Then there was the whole question of legalising magic! That was a decree which might not go down well with everyone in Albion. Gaius had already brought up Sir Leon's reaction, and though he doubted Leon would be a problem, there were those who could cause a great deal of trouble.

Life in Camelot was never dull, but at his advanced age, he would appreciate a spell of peace and tranquillity.

***** 

So it was, when The King finally awoke, the trio, on whom most of his care would rest, were in various states of apprehension.

Contrarily, Arthur felt more rested and stronger than he had since being wounded. He'd always known that coming home would act like a tonic to his battered body and soul. Although there had been times when he'd felt unsure and burdened by his responsibilities to his people, Camelot and its residents would always hold his heart. Besides, all those he loved most were here.

With the sun streaming through the leaded glass windows, casting myriad colours on the room, he lay quite still on his feather mattress, content to enjoy the moment. Soon his duty would call him, and he would have to be up and busy, but for a few minutes, he wanted time alone with his wife. After all, he had the distinct recollection of falling asleep on her last night, when no doubt she wanted to hear about all his adventures, and welcome him home in the way only she knew how.

He'd given permission for Merlin to relate all that had happened, hoping Merlin had included his confessions of magic. Arthur hadn't lied when he'd thanked Merlin for all the spells he'd used to protect himself and Camelot. He appreciated his friend's help from the bottom of his heart, and he didn't want Merlin to change, but Arthur wasn't naive enough to presume everyone in the kingdom would feel so sanguine about sorcery's return. Which was why he needed the core group of his friends to agree with his plans. Not that he had a plan, as yet. Hopefully, between himself, Guinevere, Gaius and Merlin, and those left of the knights, they could present a united front to his council.

But the band of knights who had been his staunchest supporters were slowly being whittled away. Now Gwaine was lost. Arthur would have valued his backing now. Gwaine had been particularly close to Merlin, and The King was certain he would have supported anything which would ease Merlin's position in Camelot.

Arthur shifted restlessly on his pillow. At once, Guinevere was by his side.

“Arthur?” she whispered. “Are you well, my love?”

She was dressed in her simplest attire, her dark hair tied back to cascade down to her waist, yet wispy curls escaped, framing her face. A face that showed she hadn't slept well, with tiny lines drawn between her brows. Arthur thought she'd never looked more beautiful.

“How could I not be, now I'm with you,” he said, his voice hoarse, though not for the reason of the days before. He stretched out a hand, and tangled his fingers in the tendrils of her hair. “Kiss me?” He wasn't sure if it were a demand or a plea, though any would do if it would gain his request.

Guinevere didn't need much persuading, with a smile she bent down and captured his lips, and his hands slid deeper into her hair. All the longing and fear of the last few days, melted away under the pressure of his mouth on hers. 

Arthur pulled her down to rest beside him, cradling her close against his side... and gasped aloud. 

Immediately, Gwen jumped back. “Arthur, you are not well! We shouldn't be doing this.”

“Actually, I can't think of anything else I'd rather be doing, but perhaps you should move to the other side where I don't have a wound.”

Wanting exactly the same thing as her husband, but fearing he was still too ill for anything too physical, she made one more attempt to dissuade him. “You asked our friends to meet here this morning. They'll be along soon. Perhaps we should wait until night to celebrate your return.”

Busily moving Guinevere to a more comfortable position, Arthur was taking every opportunity to caress his wife, while his lips whispered over the column of her neck. “Relax, my Guinevere. I'm sure our friends won't disturb us this early. They'll know I want some private time with my wife.”

Arthur, of course, had forgotten his servant's bad habit of entering unannounced.

“Good morning,” came the happily, cheeky voice of Merlin, as he bounced into the room. “Though technically, it is past noon, so it isn't morning any longer.” 

Arthur groaned, while Gwen bit down on her lip to suppress a grin.

“Up and at 'em, you lazy daisies!” Merlin continued, blithely.

Two pairs of eyes, blue and brown regarded the servant, one exasperated, the other amused.

“Merlin! Learn to knock!” Arthur growled, his frustration growing while his desire deflated. He pushed himself up and was surprised by another twinge of pain, which he ignored, hoping Guinevere wouldn't notice his second, admittedly quieter, gasp. “And we've already had this conversation. You're no longer a servant. You don't need to dress me, or bring my breakfast, or do any other 'servanty' things.” 

Merlin ignored Arthur's words and went on setting the contents of his tray on the table, then tidying away last night's clothes. “Well, you haven't appointed another servant yet, so I'll just carry out the duties until you do. Besides, I don't mind being your servant...”

“Yes, you did mention that, but since you saved me and half the army at Camlann, I really think you need a new position, though what it will be is something we need to discuss.”

Gwen stood up from the bed, smoothing her skirts, then crossed to the mirror to adjust her hair, which her husband had loosened from its ribbon. How had he managed to do that so quickly? Clearly there was nothing wrong with his hands. Thankfully, Merlin had come in at just the right moment, because she doubted she would have been able to resist Arthur's enticement for much longer, and those moans of pain proved he wasn't ready for what he had in mind. Which, in truth, she wasn't totally against... However, there were more important problems to be addressed, so she joined in the conversation from behind the screen.

“Merlin's right. You do need to rise and dress, otherwise you'll be conducting your first privy council from bed.”

“No way!” Arthur disagreed vehemently and swung his legs to the ground, causing his wife and servant to suppress a smile. The King would rather die than show weakness to his councillors.

“Not that it is a council meeting, yet. Just a discussion between friends.” And to prove he was self-sufficient, he opened his wardrobe and drew out his favourite red shirt, turned and looked around the room. “I've no time to take a bath, but where's a bowl, Merlin?” he asked, completely reversing his last statement about Merlin not being a servant. “I need water to wash in, and my razor. It feels like I'm growing a beard,” he said, running his hand over his chin. “I don't think that would be a good look on me, and poor Guinevere isn't fond of stubble. Come on,” he demanded, regally. “Don't just stand there!”

Merlin regarded Arthur, blankly. “You shouldn't talk to The Queen like that!”

“I'm not! I'm addressing you, clot-pole!”

“But you just said I wasn't your servant... You should try being consistent. Oh, and make up your own insults and stop borrowing mine.”

Merlin, suddenly, found the floor very interesting to study, while from behind the screen, Gwen gave up the battle of trying not to laugh, which, of course, destroyed Merlin's composure and he too burst into fits of laughter. 

Staring from one to the other, Arthur spluttered. “A king shouldn't have to put up with his subjects making fun of him. Isn't it some sort of treason? Definitely worth a morning in the stocks.”

“Arthur, you wouldn't put your queen in the stocks!” Merlin ground out between giggles.

“I wasn't talking about Guinevere. I can devise my own punishments for her.” As he looked at Gwen his eyes twinkled and he lifted his eyebrows suggestively.

“Fine, to save Camelot from a dearth of vegetables, you might want this.” And Merlin pointed to a bowl and jug sitting at the opposite end of the table to where he'd placed the food.

“Fine! I was just testing,” informed Arthur, haughtily, crossing to the said bowl, pouring in the water and beginning to wash his face and neck.

He hadn't gone far, when Guinevere crossed to his side, taking the cloth from his hand. “Please, let me,” she said, patting gently at the pink, puckered scar where Mordred's sword had entered his body, sending Merlin a sharp questioning look when Arthur's muscles tensed at her touch.

Yet neither warlock nor queen had a chance to talk, as Arthur wrinkled his nose and asked. “Merlin, will this scar heal? It has sealed over, but it doesn't look quite right.”

“Let me look,” Merlin answered quickly, checking the wound over. “I don't believe there is any infection, but it would be better if Gaius examined it.” 

Merlin leaned very close and sniffed, which caused Arthur to push him away. “What are you doing? Get away!”

“I'm only being a physician,” Merlin explained, backing off and raising both hands in surrender. “What did you think I was doing? An underlying infection would cause the wound to smell. You'll be pleased to know that apart from sweat, you smell fine.”

“I knew that!” Arthur pointed his finger at Merlin. “And I don't sweat.”

Gwen's head swivelled from one to the other. “Now, now. Play nice, children,” she admonished, though her heart sang at the normality of the situation. “And, actually, Arthur, you should wash some more. You do smell a bit of sweat... though no doubt that is because you have had a slight fever.”

Arthur's lip pouted, but he did as Guinevere suggested. “I swear you two are going to gang up against me for the rest of my life. I'm going to be the most put-upon king the world has ever known.”

At the mention of the rest of his life, seriousness settled over Gwen and Merlin like a blanket, though Arthur was busy at his ablutions and seemed not to notice the pregnant silence. After Gwen had helped him dry off, she pulled his shirt over his head, helped change his trousers and allowed him to fasten his belt. Meanwhile, Merlin had been readying Arthur's razor and The King sat quietly while his servant shaved him.

When finally Arthur was presentable, he stunned his wife and friend by asking suddenly, “Right! Now, that's finished, would you mind telling me what has made you both look like you've been visited by the ghost of my father?”

“Arthur?” Gwen tried to appear bewildered, but dropped her gaze, knowing that she couldn't long fool Arthur. For all his nonsensical fun with Merlin, he was beginning to be a wiser husband as well as a king.

“Sire, I'm not sure what you mean. Don't you think you should eat something before the meeting?” Merlin tried for distraction again, but this time it didn't have the desired effect.

“Probably, but I won't let a morsel pass my lips until you both come clean.” He crossed to the desk by the window, seated himself and waited. “And if this is going to be a long conversation, which I assume it might be, you can send the guards to tell the others I will summon them to the meeting later.”

“Arthur...” Guinevere started, imploringly, walking quickly across the floor towards him.

“No, Guinevere.” Arthur sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Don't try to sweet talk me. I know you and Merlin are holding something back, and I want to know what it is... now!”

“I wasn't trying to dissuade you,” Gwen assured him, halting her progress by the end of the bed, and looking somewhat perturbed. “I just wanted to suggest that it might be a good idea if Gaius was present.”

Nodding his head slowly, Arthur continued, looking back and forth between the two. “So, as I thought, this does have something to do with my injury.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk, his blue gaze piercing. “Is my wound infected?”

Gwen froze, and Merlin shifted his stare to the unmade bed, saying quietly as he went to straighten the covers. “If only that were all...”

“I heard that, Merlin. Leave that for someone else to fix,” Arthur ordered, “and explain what you mean.”

But on cue, Merlin got a reprieve, as there was a knock at the door and a guard entered, announcing Gaius. It was due to the chaos and unease of the citizens of Camelot after the battle, that there were guards stationed outside the Royal Chambers at all times. In normal circumstances, the guards would patrol the citadel, but weren't required to stand sentry around the clock. 

Gaius was escorted in, completely oblivious of the tension in the room, as Arthur called to the guard, “Take a message to Sir Leon for me, if you will. Tell him he and Sir Percival will not be required to attend me until later. I will send for them when necessary.” 

The soldier bowed and left.

“Am I mistaken?” Gaius asked, looking around in puzzlement. “Was there not a meeting called for today?”

“Indeed there was, Gaius.” Arthur's stare skewered the old physician. “However, it has come to my notice that there is more pressing business to be addressed first, namely, what you and these two,” he pointed at Merlin and Gwen, “have been withholding from me.”

“Ah, that,” Gaius admitted with a lift of his eyebrow, coming to stand before Arthur's desk. “I hope you won't take this amiss, Sire, but if Merlin and Gwen have remained silent, it was only for your own good, and they were only waiting for the best opportunity to tell you the truth.”

Arthur looked once more at his queen and friend, keeping silent, as if examining their hearts; finally he relented and spoke. “I understand. Merlin could hardly tell me when we were on the road, and I take it that Guinevere didn't know until last night, and I was hardly in any state to listen.” He pushed up from his seat and, as he crossed to the table, he took Guinevere's hand and ushered her to a chair. “But now I am ready to listen to whatever it is you have to say, and we might as well be comfortable while you pronounce your diagnosis.”

Gaius obeyed, but Merlin held back. He'd been dreading this revelation since Kilgarrah had left them by the lakeside. 

“Merlin, please,” Arthur said more kindly, beckoning Merlin over. “No matter what you have to tell me, I'm not going to hold you responsible. I believe you have done all you can.”

Doing as he was bid, it occurred to Merlin that Arthur might know more than he was admitting about his condition. No one spoke as they settled into their seats, and the uneasy quiet stretched onwards, till Arthur prompted.

“Merlin, you told me I have a sliver of metal in my chest. Now I have known others who have lived with such injuries, though I suspect the foreign objects have been in a less serious place.” Once more Arthur looked at his companions, though his gaze finally settled on Guinevere with a sadness which came straight from his soul. “Am I going to die?”

“Everyone dies, Sire,” Gaius said with resignation. “And you are correct. Such an injury in a limb would be more easily treated.” Each one around the table was aware of how that treatment would go, and Arthur was rather pleased that he wouldn't lose any part of his anatomy. “However,” the physician continued, “the metal embedded in you is in such a place that it is too difficult to remove, even if it were not enchanted. But I do not believe you are going to perish in the near future, especially if you heed our instructions.”

“Arthur, it is as I told you.” Merlin finally found his voice. “Kilgarrah would have removed the shard if it were possible. Instead, he did the best he could by halting and freezing its progress. Only he couldn't say how long his magic would last, though he has taught me a holding spell which will reinforce his enchantment and a potion which will help with the congestion in your lungs.”

“So the cough isn't just a cold I've caught from lying on the ground?”

Gaius answered his king. “No, sire, I'm afraid not. The shard will effect your heart's purpose, and thus fluid will gather in your lungs, making it more difficult for you to breathe. I do have other treatments I can prescribe for you, along with Merlin's potion, which will ease the condition.”

“Oh, joy!” Arthur laid back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, while Guinevere slipped her hand into his. He gripped it hard. “What does this mean for me? I take it I will never be in full health again?”

“No, Sire,” Gaius answered, as he felt tears well in his eyes. He hated giving such a prognosis to this young man whom he'd taken care of from a babe. Why had this happened? He was an old man who would gladly die rather than see this boy hurt.

“It isn't all bad, Arthur,” Merlin forced a lightness into his tone. “There are treatments to investigate which could help you.”

Arthur threw his friend a glance. “Magic ways?” he asked doubtfully, showing he wasn't as comfortable with the use of sorcery as he pretended.

“Yes! Sorcery can only be fought with sorcery, as Gaius told you once before,” Merlin replied more eagerly, as his mind warmed to the idea.

“It worked for me, Arthur. I was cleansed of Morgana's enchantments.” Guinevere added her persuasion, though the others were too intent on Arthur's problem that they didn't notice Gwen's brow wrinkle or her eyes glaze over, due, particularly, to Arthur's next statement.

“But you weren't dead, Guinevere, and I'm pretty sure that I was, and I've also been told that to save a life, or in my case, to recreate my life, another life must be taken.” Again, Arthur's intent gaze pierced Merlin and Gaius. “Isn't that so?”

“You didn't die,” Merlin pronounced, though more in hope that certainty.

“Yes, I did. You and I both know that for sure. Perhaps only for a moment, but I would have stayed dead if Kilgarrah had not acknowledged your anguish and brought me back... and for that Kilgarrah gave his life.”

Merlin was shaking his head vehemently. “Kilgarrah would have died anyway, his life was not taken to redress the balance for yours. It was completely different.”

Reaching out his free hand, Arthur clutched Merlin's arm. “Can you swear to that, Merlin? I believe you when you say Kilgarrah was old and weak, though we can't be sure that he wouldn't have lived for another few months, or a year or so.” Arthur held hard to his friend's arm and his wife's hand, anchoring himself to the two people he cared for most in this world. “I won't risk another person's life for my own. I don't care what any of you say. I won't do it.”

“Arthur, you are needed,” Merlin pleaded, covering Arthur's hand. “Not just by the people here, but all over the kingdom. Camelot will need a strong king in the time to come.”

“Perhaps,” Arthur granted, with a small smile. “Though I think you put too much faith in me. I did not place my royal seal in Guinevere's hands lightly. She is compassionate and wise... wiser than I.”

“I think we are all being a little previous here,” Gaius said, adding a dose of reality to the emotionally charged conversation, while stealing a cautious look at Gwen. When they'd been talking of her husband, she'd seemed strangely distant. 

“How so, Gaius?” Arthur asked, tamping down his eagerness, yet human enough to seek some kind of hope.

“You are not on your deathbed, Arthur, and between Merlin and myself, I believe we can keep you fairly healthy for some time to come. But I'm afraid that training and tournaments will be forbidden for now.”

“No!” At last the anguish of a young, vigorous man broke through Arthur's control. “What good is a king who cannot fight for his people?”

“You have an army of knights to fight for you. Men who would gladly give their life to protect you.” Merlin spoke gently, yet from the depth of his soul, as images of the past flashed instantaneously through his mind's eye. 

He remembered a young Arthur in Ealdor, while they waited for the brigands to attack. How he had instilled the villagers with hope and the courage to fight for their freedom. The page turned, and he saw a sea shore by The Labyrinth of Gedref, where waves broke upon the rocks and seagulls wheeled, calling, overhead. He and Arthur sitting at a table with two goblets between them, as an old man looked on. Merlin had worked out the riddle, but Arthur had drunk the poison, giving his life willingly to right the wrong he'd done and save his people from starvation. 

Arthur leading their madcap adventure to save Elyan from the Castle of Fyrien, just to put a smile on Gwen's face. And much later, when Elyan had been possessed by the spirit of a Druid boy, Arthur confessed his guilt, and his heart-felt pledge to the Druid people had freed Elyan and allowed the boy to rest in peace. He'd also won over Queen Annis by admitting his terrible mistake and offering reparation, thus saving his men and Carleon's from falling in battle. Of course, Merlin had always been in the background, helping his friend, but Arthur hadn't known that. He might make mistakes, but his brave heart never faltered in times of need. 

“We need you, Arthur!” Merlin's voice took on the authority of Emrys. “No one else! To unite Albion and bring about a golden age of justice for all, we need your belief and your compassion. We need you to inspire and guide your people as only you can. You have been a great warrior, now we have need of a great statesman.”

Arthur smiled, though his smile went awry. “I only hope I can live up to your expectations, Merlin. Guinevere has better judgement than I.” He shook his wife's hand as he spoke, and her blank stare cleared.

“What?” she asked, startled.

“I just said you are a much better judge of character than I am.” Arthur smiled at Gwen. “Don't try denying it.”

“But I do. You are a great king, Arthur, and now you have the time to realise your dream for Camelot.” She still sounded troubled, causing Gaius to study her surreptitiously.

“As long as I have you and Merlin to keep me on the right track, I suppose I can strive to be as good a king as Camelot deserves.” Arthur considered for a moment. “In fact, Merlin, I think I will promote you to councillor.”

“Don't you think that's a little too soon?” Merlin frowned at his king. “People will need time to get used to the fact that I have magic, and you haven't yet announced that you're legalising it. That won't go down well with all your citizens.”

Gaius decided to add his persuasion. “I agree with Merlin. To announce you're reversing your father's laws against sorcery, and placing Merlin, a known sorcerer, on your council at the same moment, might be too much of an adjustment for the people to accept.”

Arthur, batted his chest, which produced a coughing fit, prompting Guinevere to offer him a sip of water, and Gaius to offer a sip of his elixir. After a few seconds, Arthur's wheeze settled. “See, that's exactly what I mean. I make the wrong choices all the time. I can't remember not to hit my own chest! And, you've said it yourself, Merlin, I can't even dress myself.”

“That's when you're pretending to be a royal prat!” Merlin answered, with a resolute nod of his head. 

Worry for Arthur caused Gwen to ignore the ethereal images which were haunting the recesses of her mind. “Arthur, no one expects you to act alone. That's why you have a council, and, if we have finished our discussion on your health for the moment, perhaps you should summon Leon and Percival. They too should be included in the matter of Merlin and magic.”

“True, Guinevere. As to my health, there really isn't any more to be said. I am as I am, and it appears will be till the day I die. I should count myself lucky to be alive, and I'm sure I'll become accustomed,” Arthur said dismissively if a little sadly, took another drink and cleared his throat. “Merlin, could you have the guard send for Leon and Percival, please?”

Merlin's eyebrows raised. “See! You're even learning manners. I knew my lessons weren't all in vain.” He crossed to the door, opened it and relayed The King's request. Within seconds he was back, reassuring Arthur. “And you've also learned that you can't bear the burden of kingship alone. That's quite a change.”

“I can learn from my mistakes, Merlin,” Arthur stated, looking a little aggrieved. “You know, for someone who keeps telling me I'm destined to be the greatest king the world has ever known, you don't have a great opinion of me.”

Merlin startled, staring at his friend. “You know I don't mean that, any more than you think I'm completely incompetent.” He stood close by Arthur, holding his hand over his heart as he made his pledge. “I admire you more than any other man I have ever known. I love you like a brother, and I would gladly give my life for yours. This I swear.”

“As I would for you.” Arthur gave a similar salute, though he was more careful touching his chest this time. “And, though you have lied to me for a decade, I trust you more than any other man, which is why I need you on my council. Nobles and commoners be damned, I intend to give you a position worth the devotion you have shown to me and to Camelot.”

“Might I suggest a compromise?” Gaius asked, proud that Merlin was finally getting the recognition he deserved, but aware that promoting him to a full member of the council was unwise for now.

“Please do, Gaius. It was for this reason I called this meeting today, which is why I ask you to hold that thought until Leon and Percival join us. Meanwhile, it would be a shame to allow this food to go to waste. Be my guests.” He gestured at the spread on the table, and for a short time there was silence as everyone continued to eat, using the time for a moment of reflection, the quiet broken only by inconsequential topics of conversation.

Arthur was surprised to find he had an appetite, after all. He wasn't happy about the facts he'd received about his injury, though, if he were honest, he hadn't been totally shocked. The pain, the cough, and the feeling of oppression beneath his ribcage had suggested an underlying cause. He just hadn't expected it to be a death sentence, and one that might, in the end, outfox even Merlin.

Meanwhile, as Merlin picked at the meal, he reinforced his commitment not to drop the question of Arthur's wound. There had to be something which could be done. He had a lot of research to do, perhaps contact the Druids who were more skilled in the healing arts. They might even know what had happened to The Cup of Life. Arthur appeared adamant that he wasn't about to sacrifice anyone else's life for his own, so that might be a dead end, even if the cup was found, but there might be other ways. For the present, he would continue to say nothing. There was no point in raising people's hopes for what was possibly a forlorn cause.

*****


	6. Dawn Of a New Age

Chapter Six  
Dawn of a New Age

The remains of the food had been cleared away, but a jug of wine and six goblets had taken its place, when Sir Leon and Sir Percival answered The King's summons. They arrived together, and it was clear to the occupants already in the room that they had been having a discussion, perhaps one that hadn't been wholly agreeable. Percival looked fairly happy when he bowed to the royal couple, though Leon's expression was unreadable as he saluted.

“Welcome, Leon and Percival, please take a seat,” Arthur said as he waved his knights over. “This isn't exactly the round table, but you must speak as freely here as you do when you take your places there. In fact, I'm eager to hear your ideas on how we change the autocratic and outdated laws on magic, and how we introduce Merlin to the court in his new role.”  
Percival lowered his large frame into a chair, leaving the end place for Leon, as he was the senior knight of Camelot. If Percival were not mistaken, Leon was about to make his position on Arthur's proposals clear.

“Are we to change all the laws on sorcery, Sire, because you've discovered your closest friend has magic?”

Arthur's eyebrows rose, and his blue eyes narrowed as he regarded his commander, who still stood at the foot of the table. “I'd be lying if I said that didn't have some bearing on my intentions. Knowing Merlin to be a good man, who has saved all our lives many times these past years, has made me question my suppositions about magic. If one honourable person can have magic and use it for the benefit of all, then don't you concede there are probably others out there, Leon?” 

Once more, Arthur placed his folded arms on the table and leaned towards his inflexible knight. “I was once told by an ancient sorceress at The Cauldron of Arianrhod that there is no evil in sorcery but in the hearts of men.” For a brief second, Arthur's gaze flicked sideways to Merlin. “She asked me to remember that. I gave her a promise, but until recently, I haven't exactly considered the truth of her words. It seems to me that magic is like a sword, it can be used to attack, but it can also be used to defend... the difference lies in the hearts and minds of the people who wield it.”

Now it was Leon's turn to lean on the table, staring at The King and those around him. “But you have to admit that there are evil sorcerers?” Leon asked, his voice harsher than anyone in that room had ever heard from him. “Your father knew that truth, and we have all suffered at the hands of Morgana, and before her Morgause. My father was killed by sorcery...”

“Sir Leon, please,” Gaius interrupted, hoping to placate the troubled young man. “I found no evidence of enchantment involved in your father's death.”

“You would say that,” Leon ground out. “Merlin is like a son to you, and you've admitted to using sorcery yourself.”

At those words, Arthur rose to his feet, every inch the imperious king. “Sir Leon, Gaius is my physician and councillor, and more importantly, a friend. Even my father valued his services. He is not on trial.”

Leon's head bowed, but it was clear he was not to be persuaded. “I was very young when my father died, but my grandfather told me that he was recovering, yet suddenly he sickened and died.” Leon's voice grew louder as he became more confident in his indictment. “He was in the care of a healer named Alice, if I remember correctly. A woman who returned to Camelot not too many years ago, and was arrested for practising dark sorcery. I still find it difficult to trust magic, and, I pray you, Arthur, not to undo all of Uther's work in making the kingdom a safe place for ordinary people.”

At Leon's mention of Alice, Gaius and Merlin exchanged glances, but stayed silent. The example of Alice would not promote magic's cause, for she had been lured by a sinister monster; a good woman once, who had not been able to resist the draw of evil. It made little difference that she had repented in the end.

Meanwhile, Arthur still challenged Leon. “Then would you have me arrest and execute Merlin? The warlock who helped us fight off the Saxons, who tamed the dragon and killed Morgana, not to mention who just saved my life. Without Merlin, the peace of Camelot would have been destroyed and Morgana would rule here in my stead.”

That stole the wind from Leon's sails for a moment or two. “No, of course I wouldn't want Merlin harmed. But what you say proves my point. Morgana was a witch and she was evil. Mordred was our friend, and yet he went to Morgana and fought by her side.”

“Don't remind me of my shame, Sir Leon.” Arthur swallowed hard. “I drove Mordred away. He was young and thought himself in love. If I'd only taken more time to listen to him, he would not have deserted us, of that I'm sure.”

Always quick to defend her husband, Guinevere took his hand. “Arthur, we don't know that...”

“You're kind to excuse me, Guinevere, but I should have been more understanding,” He raised her hand and placed a kiss on her palm. “Like you.”

“If we're playing the blame game, I should take some responsibility for Morgana's descent into madness,” Merlin admitted with a deal of sorrow. “She was terrified of Uther finding out about her powers. She was sure he would execute her.”

“I would never have let that happen!” Arthur burst out, horrified at the thought of his father putting to death the girl he had grown up loving as a sister. Yet, if he were honest with himself, would he have been able to stop Uther? He'd been helpless when Guinevere had been sentenced to death.

Thank god for Dragoon... or Merlin, as he now realised, and with that thought followed another dreadful realisation. If Dragoon hadn't placed the first magic potion under his pillow, then it could only have been Morgana. Even then, she was plotting against her family and friends. Sorcery had corrupted Morgana, yet he could never hate her, only regret the circumstances that had driven them apart. 

“You're not the only one who blames themselves for Morgana's fate. I should have been a shoulder for her to cry on, a confident,” Gaius added, his old, faded eyes misting over. “Yet I had seen Uther turn against so many good people who couldn't help having magic. I chose to hide her gift even from herself, believing that would be best for her. I couldn't have been more wrong.”

Guinevere, once more the voice of reason, spoke up. “Perhaps we all let Morgana down, but she did choose her own road in the end, and because of that choice, we suffered terribly at her hands. But talking of Morgana does nothing to solve this present impasse.” Gwen searched the face of the knight she had known since childhood. “Leon, I think we all agree that there are good and bad sorcerers. You yourself were healed by the Druids, by magic. You cannot ignore that fact.”

“Milady, the Druids are a peaceful people and I'm thankful for all they did for me,” Leon confessed, with a slight tilt of his head to his queen. “But even among the Druids there are those who hate Camelot and may still attack us.”

“Not if we make it known that sorcery will no longer be outside the law.” Arthur was still trying to be persuasive, yet it was clear his patience was wearing thin. “I loved my father, and in some ways he was a good king who believed, without question, he was doing the best for the kingdom by wiping out magic. I admit, he thought he had good reason, but it was his intolerance and intractability which led to our war with The Old Religion. Camelot has suffered too much, those with magic and those without, and I will not let that state of affairs continue. I'm sorry Leon if you do not approve my plans, but my mind is made up.”

“I won't be the only one who does not agree,” Leon said, boldly, straightening his shoulders.

Arthur could not suppress a sigh. “Sadly, you're very likely correct, which is why I'd hoped for the support of my closest friends.” He looked around his chambers, as once he had in a ruined castle, standing by an ancient round table, only that time he'd won unconditional backing from those gathered there.

Slowly, Merlin rose to stand by Arthur. “May I speak, Sire?”

“Merlin,” Arthur replied somewhat exasperatedly. “I invited everyone to speak freely. In this room, you are the last person I expect platitudes from.”

“Exactly,” Merlin said, his lips curling at the edges, surprising a similar grin from Arthur. He turned to address the room. “As you all know, I have magic, and soon all of Camelot will learn that truth. I was born with it, and I have recently learned how to wield all my powers. I am the infamous Emrys the Druids talk about. I can no more turn my back on magic than I can stop breathing.” Actually, there was more truth to that statement than people knew, but Merlin doubted explaining that fact would help this discussion. “I have and always will use my magic for the good of Arthur and Camelot. However, I cannot deny there are evil sorcerers out there, people who use their powers for their own selfish and greedy purposes. These people must be made to pay for any crimes they commit. But they must be charged for the crime and not for who they are, and the punishment must suit the crime.” 

“You mean I can't put you in the stocks for calling me a prat?” Arthur asked Merlin with another smirk, unable to resist lightening the atmosphere for a moment.

“Not if I call you a royal prat, besides it wouldn't be seemly for a councillor of Camelot to be a target for rotten vegetables.”

“But, Merlin, you're not yet a councillor, and if Sir Leon and similar thinking nobles have their way, you never will be.” Arthur sat down, looking dejected. “I'm The King, why can't I just command them to recognise you?”

At the end of the table, Sir Leon bridled. “I don't enjoy making your life difficult, Sire. I'm not disagreeing with you on a whim. You must understand that,” Leon said, sounding more reasonable than he had at the start of this meeting. “In fact, I have no quarrel with Merlin and his sorcery. I've known him long enough to know he is trustworthy. I just don't believe we can allow those who have not won our trust free rein within our city.”

“I think he might have a point, Arthur,” Merlin admitted, uttering a sigh which echoed Arthur's. “Perhaps we are expecting too much of your people too soon.”

“Too soon?” Arthur's voice rose an octave. “Merlin, you've been waiting for years to bring magic back to Camelot.”

“So it won't hurt me to wait a little longer, if it means persuading the citizens rather than brow-beating them.”

Taking a large slug of his wine, Arthur did not look pleased. “But that means we don't change the status-qua at all, and, I'm sorry, but I don't find that acceptable.” He rose again and wandered over to the window, gazing down at the courtyard where the people were still going about the job of clearing up the aftermath of the battle. “Merlin, we didn't go through all that trauma to do nothing. Besides, we don't how much time I have left.”

Arthur's last statement snapped Leon's head erect.

“Surely enough time to introduce these changes more gradually, and so reassure the people,” Guinevere spoke again, as she moved to stand with her husband.

“Why are we talking about time? Is there something else I should know?” Leon asked with alarm, looking from the royal couple to Merlin, while Percival cleared his throat, loudly.

“Yes, Percival? Speak up.” Arthur turned back to face those in the room and gestured encouragingly to the knight who was still sitting at the table. “Do you have similar objections to Sir Leon?”

“No, Sire. We already talked about this at the camp fire, and I still say I have no strong feelings one way or the other, though, in the case of Merlin, I think we and Camelot are fortunate to have him as a friend... and warlock.” Percival paused, then spoke quickly to conceal his nervousness. “It is your cough which has me concerned. Are you better?”

“So, the problem of my health?” Arthur took hold of Guinevere's hand as if he needed her strength to broach this particular topic. After a few seconds, he took a deep breath, and continued. “I suppose we might as well talk about this too, since it is important, but be aware, this stays between the six of us. It would not do to allow our enemies, or even some of our less trustworthy friends to find out that The King of Camelot is dying.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from the two knights, the loudest from Sir Leon.

“No, Sire. Do not say so,” Leon almost wept. “You have been injured, and have undergone a tiring journey, you will recover.”

“It seems not, Leon. Both my physicians are agreed.” With that, Arthur glanced at Merlin and Gaius. “They do not know how long I have left, but it seems Mordred will be the death of me, after all.”

Leon swung towards Merlin, pleading. “No, that can't be. Merlin, use your magic. Cure Arthur!”

An ironic laugh escaped Arthur's lips. “Don't you think that's rather hypocritical Leon? You condone the use of magic when you see fit?”

Still holding Arthur's hand, Guinevere placed her other reproachfully on her husband's shoulder. “Arthur, don't be so cruel. Leon is only worried about you... and, as he stated earlier, he trusts Merlin implicitly.” 

There was another silence in the room while the occupants paused to take note, until Guinevere suggested. “I think we should all sit down once more, and discuss these two subjects with cooler heads. I'm certain all of us hold Arthur's well being to be the greatest importance, both his health and his wishes. With that in mind, I'm sure we can come to a conclusion that will suit all of our opinions.”

There were various nods and vague noises of assent as each one sat down, while Guinevere went round the table filling up the goblets, not as a servant, but as host to this privy council. When she finished, she went to sit next to Arthur once more.

“Firstly, I want to thank Merlin in public for bringing Arthur back to me and saving our army at Camlann. I propose a toast, to Merlin, or should that be Emrys?” she added with a smile to her warlock friend.

“To Merlin Emrys!”

Each man at the table, apart from the abashed man himself, raised his glass and drank, deeply. All feeling in need of a little fortification. 

“Please, Emrys is a name used by those who do not know me. I have and always will be Merlin to my friends.”

“To Merlin,” Arthur called out. Once again they drank and, this time, Merlin joined in.

“Good. Now the formalities are over,” Guinevere led the conversation, deeming that it took a woman to get to the heart of the matter. “Let us get down to business. No one knows the future, and I think I have read the situation correctly, if I say that Arthur could live for quite a long time, if he heeds his physicians, takes his medicine and allows Merlin to practise his holding spell over him from time to time. Is this correct?” Her soft brown eyes went from Merlin to Gaius, but there was steel beneath her gaze.

“That is so, Gwen,” Merlin answered, though he was staring at Arthur. “As long as he isn't a dollop-head who thinks he can joust and join the melee, he could live for many years. Time enough to father and nurture heirs to Camelot.”

Merlin's latter statement caused both King and Queen to cast a quick glance at each other. They obviously had some concerns over why they hadn't already conceived a child. It certainly wasn't for want of trying, but that was a private matter, and not to be discussed here, though perhaps with Gaius later. Arthur, for one, couldn't see him having that intimate conversation with Merlin, though, he had to admit he was seeing his servant in a completely different light, so perhaps he could talk to him. But Guinevere had put her personal problems aside and was still speaking.

“I think we can agree that concludes the subject of The King's health, for the moment. Though I would ask, gentlemen,” and she directed her question to the knights at the end of the table, “that you keep an eye on my stubborn husband to make sure he doesn't sneak in some weapons training.”

“Guinevere! I am not a child,” Arthur said with just a tiny pout of his lips. “I understand what is required of me. I don't have to like it, but I do accept I have responsibilities to the realm.”

“Good!” Guinevere offered him a soothing smile, and again covered his hand with her own. Since he'd arrived in Camelot the night before, she couldn't get enough of touching him, reassuring herself that his presence was real and not just a dream. “So, let us address the second topic, the question of the reintroduction of magic.”

“Good!” Arthur echoed his wife, taking control once more. “This was what I brought you all here for in the first place. Sir Leon, can I recap? Your objections aren't to magic in general, but that you do not trust the people who practise magic?”

“That is my main fear,” Leon agreed with a nod of his head, though he seemed less entrenched than earlier. “I would be afraid to legalise magic totally at this time, until we learn more about the people who use it.”

Merlin too nodded. “That doesn't sound unreasonable, Arthur. If I'm honest, I have similar reservations. There could be allies of Morgana still out there, and you can't have forgotten The Disir. They placed The Triple Goddess's judgement on you, and I couldn't say with confidence they will be happy we thwarted their pronouncement of your doom. There are many facets of The Old Religion, and I can't speak for them all. Perhaps it is wise to be cautious.”

“But I gave you my word, Merlin, by the shores of Avalon, and I will not go back on it.” Arthur was looking stubborn again, but he suddenly showed a glimpse of the statesmanship he was learning. “However, I understand what you, Leon, and probably most of my councillors will believe, that we cannot open our borders to all sorcerers. Yet that doesn't mean we should do nothing.”

Arthur would have liked to stand, but to be honest, he was beginning to tire. He fervently hoped this would not be how it was with him in the future, and made a note to ask Merlin and Gaius just what he could expect of himself. For the moment, he dropped his voice, but let it fill the room, a talent he had learned from his father.

“At the next council, we will decree that we are looking into the practises of magic, since we are now aware that not all sorcerers are evil. In fact, there are some whose services would be advantageous to the kingdom... Druid healers, for example. Merlin, can you contact the Druid leader we have had dealings with: the one who healed Sir Leon? He seems a peaceful and very learned man and perhaps can advise us on our future actions.”

“I believe I could, Sire,” Merlin answered with a happy smile.

“Merlin, stop siring me! You'll give me a relapse.”

“Don't tempt me, Arthur,” he replied with even a bigger grin. “I also know of another magician I would be happy to invite to Camelot, one who you all might recognise, though never knew he had magic. If we can gather a small group of trustworthy warlocks, we would be better placed to seek out those who have wicked intentions against us.”

“Thank you, Merlin. I will leave that up to you.” Arthur turned quickly to his foremost knight, who stood at the end of the table. “Would these conditions allay your anxieties, Leon? I would not be removing the laws immediately, but convening a committee to study the matter.”

“That does seem more suitable, Sire, and I'm sure you will have a greater chance of getting such a decree past the wider council.” Leon's answer was friendly. “I never meant to upset you, Arthur. You are my liege lord; I could never find better, nor wish to change you, but you asked for candour, and I could not help but express my concerns.”

Arthur acquiesced with a slight tilt of his head. “And I appreciate your honesty, Leon. I am not my father. I believe in listening to other people's advice. I might not always take it, but I promise to consider it.” He ended with one of his trademark, endearing smiles. “So we have a plan to put before the council regarding our stand on magic. I'll call a meeting of the full council... no make that a grand council, for the day after tomorrow, two hours after noon, that should give the outlying nobles time to assemble.”

“Sire, a meeting of the grand council has not been held since your father outlawed sorcery,” Gaius said with some surprise. “There might be many who have forgotten its purpose.”

“But such a council is still lawful?” Arthur asked, since he'd only read about these meetings during his boyhood studies, when his father had insisted he learn all aspects of ruling. Though he'd much rather have been out learning sword-craft or jousting, he'd understood the importance, even at a young age. “Gaius, you must have been present at some of those?”

“Indeed, Sire,” Gaius assured him. “But calling a grand council was always an unusual event, one your father considered necessary but once. Geoffrey of Monmouth will have the records in the archives, should you wish to read up on them.”

“That should prove interesting bed time reading,” Arthur said with a wry grin. There were other things he'd rather be doing in bed, but it was probably best he had some knowledge of procedure. “If my father held such a council to outlaw magic, then it seems fitting to call one to discuss reversing that decision. Sir Leon, if you would be so kind as to send out summonses.”

Sir Leon bowed. He and the others made to leave, but Arthur held up his hand once more.

“Which leaves one more topic to still be addressed... Merlin's position.” Everyone halted at the grave note in The King's voice. Could he be more displeased with Merlin than everyone supposed? “I'm sorry, Merlin, I know I said earlier that you were no longer my servant, but, upon reflection, I cannot abide the thought of breaking in a new one, or having George under my feet, continuously. You know how I like things, Merlin, so I need you to remain. However, you will not be asked to muck out my stables, polish my armour, or do the laundry. There are enough servants in the citadel to do those sundry tasks, but I'd much rather have you hanging around than any other, and I'm sure Gwen agrees.” He quickly looked to his wife to see her smiling. “So, will you remain my servant, but also my special advisor and personal physician, alongside Gaius? You will also lead the committee on magic, if that suits you well?”

Merlin's grin split his face. “Indeed it does, Arthur. I'd miss you too.”

“Are there any other objections to Merlin's new status?” Arthur once again searched his friends' expressions, but in this they were clearly all agreed, judging by their smiles and the way they were shaking Merlin's hand and patting him on the back.

“Oh, and Merlin, we really have to get you some grander clothes to suit your new job.” Arthur's voice faded, as he slipped down heavily in his chair, his head tilted back and his eyelids closed, his lashes pale against his even paler skin. 

Very quickly, Leon and Percival left, and Gaius, seeing Arthur was safe in Merlin's care, took his leave of his king.

The King's first privy council, since his return from the dead, had been concluded and with some success. Under the circumstances, Arthur was correct to be pleased, but oh, he felt weary. That worried him, and, if his eyes had been open, he would have noticed his wife and his special advisor were anxious too.

*****


	7. Small Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we meet two old friends from the TV show, one who gives Arthur a timely helping hand. There is a decision made regarding the future return of magic to Camelot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to post a chapter of this story every couple of days as it gets a bit too stressful posting so many at once.

Chapter Seven

Small Steps

On the second day of Arthur's return, he disobeyed his physicians' and wife's advice and ventured out of his chambers. At first, he'd contented himself with walking around the top floors of the citadel, re-acquainting himself with his home, which, for a time, he thought he'd never see again. If it were possible, he found Camelot even more precious.

Yet he soon grew restless, and surely his nursemaids wouldn't be too annoyed with him if he continued his stroll. After all, he'd been very good the day before in abiding by their instructions. He'd napped in the afternoon, after his meeting with Leon and Percival, and only risen to join Guinevere, Merlin and Gaius for dinner, where there had been an unspoken agreement by all four that no serious conversations would intrude upon their joy.

Perhaps he had forgotten Gaius' stricture about no strenuous exercise that night when he and Guinevere had gone to bed. But what was a man to do, after having been separated from his wife for too long, and under exceptionally trying circumstances? Besides, Gwen had seen to it that he didn't strain himself over much, and he had slept very well afterwards. So, he'd looked upon their night time activities as therapy. 

He certainly felt stronger this morning, definitely no reason to be acting like an invalid.

Soon he'd found his way to the infirmary, which had taken over one of the larger halls of the palace, checking in on the state of his wounded knights and soldiers. He'd spoken to each of the casualties who were conscious, thanking them for their service and assuring them they would not be forgotten. With the more severely wounded, he'd asked those caring for them how each one did, and if they were likely to survive. His heart was heavy when he finished his rounds, and he made a mental note to ask Merlin whether any of the dying could be saved by magic. The benefits magic could bring could not be reserved only for royalty. 

Lost in thought, he paid little attention to where he was heading and wandered slowly outdoors. Standing at the top of the stairway, he basked in the sun's rays while surveying the courtyard. The shrouded bodies had gone, many burials having taken place before Arthur's return, but discarded weapons and the dead men's possessions had been stacked in various piles, or on wagons around the edges of the yard, waiting to be reclaimed by members of the soldiers' families, or to be sold off.

The proceeds of the auction would go to support the bereaved relatives, since the breadwinner was now deceased or too badly injured to continue with work. 

Shaking his head in sorrow at the large amount of accoutrements on display, Arthur decided it was his duty to oversee the future proceedings and perhaps supplement the funds from the royal purse. There would be too many families facing hardship this coming winter. He would have to talk with his treasurer on the matter, as there was gold and jewels aplenty in Camelot's vaults, which would ensure his people didn't starve. He moved off down the steps with a rueful grin. This was yet another subject on which many of his council would not approve. He was acquiring quite a list. 

Plus, there was one more thing he could do for those who had paid the ultimate price in his name. It wasn't much, but he would order a memorial service to honour the dead, since he had not been present at their funerals. That should, at least, please both nobles and commoners, especially the feast at the end of the day, and he doubted even the most parsimonious of Camelot's nobles would begrudge the food and drink he would provide for the townsfolk. Perhaps he would set up the feast for the people of the town and out lying villages here in the square. In this new age of Albion, he felt he should make an effort to become better acquainted with his people.

His feet took him where his thoughts led, and he crossed the drawbridge into the streets, holding his breath as he passed his guards. It wouldn't have been beyond imagination that Guinevere, with Merlin's and Gaius's help, had instructed the sentries not to let him leave the citadel alone. He was fairly certain they wouldn't approve of his adventure, but his fears were unfounded and he made his way through the town.

Surprisingly, though he was sure there would be many who were in mourning, the mood of the citizens seemed relaxed and positive. Some enterprising people had hung bunting across the narrow lanes, while the standard of The Pendragons appeared everywhere, above doorways and nailed to walls. He felt certain that if the town's people had recognised him he would have been mobbed by well-wishers.

But he had left off his chainmail; it was dirty and needed mending, and he probably wouldn't use it much in the future anyway. This latter thought dampened his spirits, but on such a day, when the sun was shining and the majority of his people appeared happy just to have survived, it would be churlish of him to sink into a depression. Thankful he was wearing a plain white shirt and dark trousers, with his shabby blue cloak, he pulled the hood low over his head to hide his face and went on to explore. 

Outside the tavern, a band of pipers were playing a merry tune, while some young women danced a jig to the beat of a tambourine. Arthur strayed a little too close, caught up in the moment, and found himself pulled by a pretty girl into the dance, she twirled him around and passed him onto her friend, who was exceedingly energetic. His new partner, picked up her skirts with one hand while she linked her arm through his and began to spin. Around them, the others clapped and cheered, and the pipers played faster and faster. 

Everyone but Arthur was laughing, but it wasn't conceit or reserve that made him desperate to withdraw. He only wished he felt well enough to enjoy the chance festivities, but his partner was too sprightly, her whirling too quick. More and more, his head and chest started to ache, as the beat of the music jarred through his body. All about him the noise increased, but the crowds had built up and there seemed no escape. 

Oh, god! He was going to pass out in the middle of his people, outside the tavern. They would send for Gaius and the game would be up. Merlin and the guards would carry him, ignominiously, back to the citadel, where Guinevere would scold him for being so stupid, and the folk would spread the rumour that they have a weak and sickly king on the throne.

Suddenly, a hand reached out and pulled him from the fray, steadying him as he stumbled, and a voice whispered in his ear.

“Is there somewhere nearby where you can rest, Arthur Pendragon?”

It took Arthur a few moments for his senses to settle, to notice the stranger who was supporting him, and to regain his bearings. The man was dressed as covertly as himself, though Arthur's disguise was in danger of being blown, his hood having fallen back and his cloak almost slipping from his shoulders during the dancing. His unknown helper sorted his clothes, so that once again he would not be recognised by a passing glance. Though, if those gathered at the tavern had not noticed their king was amongst them, it was probably safe to assume he was in the clear. People only expected to see a king in his proper setting.

“Can you make it back to the citadel?” his saviour asked again.

Arthur shook his head, quickly deciding that would be a big mistake. The ache behind his eyes had now magnified into something that felt like a wild boar charging through his skull.

“No, not yet,” he managed to grind out between his clenched teeth. “Over there. That house.” He pointed to a small dwelling across the street, a couple of doors down from the tavern. It was Guinevere's old home, and though she seldom visited now, she still couldn't bear to be parted from it. Arthur understood why she felt that way, and right at this moment was very grateful to have a bolt hole.

Together, he and his helper made their way to the door, and pushing it open, they staggered inside.

“Thank you for helping me, and I'm sorry to be a burden,” Arthur said, once he had sat down on the bed and laid his head back against the wall, allowing his eyes to close.

He could hear the other man sitting on the bench by Gwen's table. “You are not a burden, Arthur Pendragon. I was glad to assist you. It is why I have come to Camelot.”

Arthur's eyes opened to examine the cloaked figure opposite him. The man wore an old homespun gown of a dull brown, but now he'd removed his hood, revealing the Druid whom Arthur had met a few times over the years. His hair was streaked with more grey, but his lined face was still enigmatic, though he projected an air of calm... he always had. Even when Arthur had seized a young Druid boy in the caves, he had betrayed no threatening manner, but had simply asked for the boy's release. To tell the truth, Arthur was not proud of his actions that day. Normally he didn't terrorise children.

“I'm sorry for what I did that day, when I invaded your home, looking for The Cup of Life,” he admitted, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “That was ill done of me. I was desperate, but I never would have harmed the boy.”

The Druid bowed his head slightly. “I know that, Arthur Pendragon. I do not wish to speak ill of your father, but you are not such a man who wilfully kills what he fears, and for that reason, I have come to treat with you.”

Beginning to feel somewhat better, Arthur sat up straighter, choosing to ignore the man's appraisal of his father, though in truth, Arthur could no longer excuse that aspect of Uther's rule. “It's probably Merlin you want to talk to. He's the expert on magic in Camelot.” 

“But your destinies are entwined,” the man said, as if it were a fact that everyone understood. “Two sides of a coin.”

Arthur gave one of his lop-sided grins. “That's getting to be very well used phrase.”

“Only because it is true,” the Druid replied, then tucked his hands in the flowing sleeves of his robe.

There were a few moments of silence as each man studied the other, finally Arthur cleared his throat. “Our paths have crossed a few time over the years, and yet I don't even know your name,” he said apologetically. 

“I am Iseldir, leader of my clan.” The man rose and bowed. “It has been a long path, yet finally we walk it together, Arthur. I thank you for lifting the laws against my race.”

“There is no need for thanks. The law was unfair. It always was, and I should have atoned for my father's mistake as soon as I became king. For my sins, I apologise, but I still reserve the right to prosecute any Druid who commits a crime of theft or violence against Camelot, or against another Druid for that matter.”

Again, Iseldir inclined his head. “I have no quarrel with that decree. We follow peaceful customs, and seek love and wisdom always, between all peoples, but I am sorry to say some have strayed from our ways. I would ask only that you allow my own law-makers to deal with those who have committed a crime not in your kingdom, nor against your people.”

This time, Arthur gave a slight bow of his head. “Of course. I would not seek to force my laws on anyone out with my jurisdiction. I sincerely hope we can come to an agreement which will suit both our peoples, and bring...”

What Arthur was to bring was not to be discovered, as a very worried Merlin burst through the door.

“There you are!” Merlin declared, anxiety raising his voice and causing him to forget his manners, but he did close the door behind him before continuing his rant. “What were you thinking of? And what is this I hear being bandied around in the street? Something about The King joining in the celebrations outside The Rising Sun, actually dancing a jig? What part of 'taking it easy' do you not understand?”

“Yes, Merlin. Ten out of ten for observation. I am here, and I'm pretty much all right,” Arthur said with just a hint of his normal sarcasm. “And yes, strange though it seems, I did dance outside the tavern. Not very well, I might add, but I didn't have much choice. I was inadvertently incognito, and the girls dragged me into their dance, which wouldn't have turned out very well if it hadn't been for our friend here.” Arthur gestured to the man standing by Gwen's old table. “This is Iseldir, who you probably recognise. He rescued me from my over joyful citizens and I got him to bring me in here, as I needed to rest for a bit. And,” Arthur continued holding up his hand, “it was madness for me to leave the palace, so please don't lecture. I'm sure I'll hear enough about it from Guinevere, and I'll deserve every word, but I never meant to venture this far into town. I just wanted to see how my people were doing, and it seems they're celebrating my return.” Arthur voice tailed off in wonder.

“What did you expect?” Merlin asked, relenting somewhat. “They care about you just as much as you care about them. And if you think you were incognito, then you really are crazy. The people recognised your blond dollop-head almost immediately, and now the story is all over town.”

The Druid, Iseldir spoke up, defusing Merlin's frustration with his king. “There definitely appears to be a carnival atmosphere about Camelot, and I had expected them to be mourning their losses.”

“The whole town and citadel was grieving, and they weren't sure if the Saxons were still out there, waiting to attack again,” Merlin explained coming further into the room. “But since word got round of Arthur's miraculous return, the mood has changed completely. Come on, shift up a bit.” He squeezed himself onto the end of the bed beside Arthur, making himself comfortable. “It's good to see you, Iseldir, and under happier circumstances than our previous meeting. I hoped you would hear my call and come to Camelot.”

“I was intrigued by your message, Emrys. I could not stay away, since I am interested to hear what you and The Pendragon have planned.” Iseldir's glance strayed from The Warlock to The King.

“Merlin, before we get settled here, I believe this conversation would be better held in the citadel, besides, if we don't get back, Guinevere will no doubt send out another search party.” 

*****

The walk back to the palace took longer than any one of them had expected, and not because Arthur was infirm. Rather, it was the fact that word had circulated around Camelot about The King's impromptu dance in the street, and the people had come out to welcome him home.

Since Arthur, Merlin and Percival had arrived late at night, and the curfew, which had been in place from before the battle, had not yet been lifted, the townsfolk had only heard rumours of The King's return. 

But after Arthur's unscheduled meeting with his people, news had spread like wildfire, and the people of Camelot had rushed to see for themselves that their king was indeed safe and living amongst them again.

Arthur was profoundly moved by the depth of his people's relief and happiness. He had always loved his land and the people who lived therein with a passion that outdid all others, sometimes more than his feelings for Guinevere and Merlin, but to discover that the citizens of Camelot returned his feelings tenfold almost unmanned him.

He would let no one pass who wanted to bow or shake his hand, in fact, the once arrogant prince raised all those who stooped or curtsied and took their hand or patted them on back or shoulder, his endearing grin wide on his face, while tears blurred his eyes.

This was worth coming back from the dead for. As he saw the joy with which he was received, he vowed in his heart he would never abandon them while he had the tiniest amount of fight left in his body. He pledged, also, he would struggle with every breath to ensure their lives would be as peaceful and unprejudiced as he could possibly attain.

He stumbled on the uneven cobbles as he approached the drawbridge, whilst those around him rushed to help. So it was that King Arthur returned to his courtyard on the shoulders of an exultant crowd, Merlin and Iseldir walking close enough to steady The King on his somewhat uneven perch.

The guards and off-duty soldiers, hearing the tumult, came to investigate and soon joined in by banging their spears against their shields, or clapping loudly. 

Cries of 'Long live The King!' could be heard amongst the throng and swelled to a chorus which rose to the azure skies above, like a prayer of thanks to the various gods, whichever one believed in, Old Religion or New.

High on the castle balcony, Guinevere watched her husband. During the morning, she'd chaired a meeting with the ladies of Camelot on how to relieve the plight of those families who had lost a loved one in the war with Morgana and her Saxons. She had been due to meet up with Arthur at lunchtime, when they would dine with the closest members of the privy council to discuss tactics for the coming days.

Yet Arthur had never arrived, and she'd grown increasingly anxious as the servants, sent to find him, had returned without her husband. Merlin and Gaius had shown up alone, so too the knights. It seemed Arthur had been spotted earlier in the morning wandering somewhat aimlessly around the citadel, and that he might have gone outside, but no one knew for sure where he was. 

Leon had gone to check with the guards in the square and returned with the strange news that The King had been seen in the town, celebrating with his people. Merlin had volunteered to go look for Arthur, and, believing that her husband would hate to be treated like a lost child, Guinevere had sent him off with the proviso that if he needed help he should call immediately for Leon and Percival.

She ought to have been annoyed with her clot-pole husband for risking his health and scaring those who cared for him most, but when she saw his beaming smile, the healthy flush of his cheeks as he was borne back to his home on the shoulders of the people, her heart melted.

He looked up and waved to her in triumph, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief and elation, and the hint of an apology for causing her concern. It was the look he reserved only for her, and suddenly her heart was singing too, a lightness of soul sending her winging down the corridors to meet him at the portico. Once there, she threw her arms around Arthur, now standing on the steps above the crowd, and kissed him thoroughly.

The audience to this very public show of affection between King and Queen went wild, and knowing it would be some time before they were ready to leave, Merlin took it upon himself to order the issue of some of the food and ale that was being stocked for the planned party.

It was with some reluctance, that a short while later, the royal party left their subjects and entered the palace, heading for the chamber where their own food was laid out, to address the more serious prospect of their future plans.

*****

Both Arthur and Guinevere led the conversation during the meal into lighter subjects, aided and abetted by Merlin and Gaius, though touching on magic. Merlin related some of his earlier attempts to conjure spells, when he first arrived in Camelot, to protect his young master. 

Even Iseldir, who had been invited to join the group, added a few general snippets of information about Druid life, which interested Leon in particular. In fact, the meeting between the knight's commander and the chief Druid had been unusually friendly, no doubt because Iseldir and his followers had saved Leon's life.

Geoffrey of Monmouth, Camelot's High Seneschal, had been the only other person asked to attend, but he sat quietly next to The Queen, while his old eyes, hooded beneath bushy eyebrows, showed a keen interest in all that was said.

None of them talked of dark magic, though there was a mention of when Uther had married a troll.

Arthur surprised everyone by uttering a disparaging laugh. “Merlin, so that was how you knew Lady Katrina was a troll? I always wondered how you were able to know so much about almost everything, before I'd even worked out something was wrong.” 

Actually, Arthur was keen to hear the story, and not just for his own benefit. Queen Katrina might have tried to usurp his place as heir to the throne and plunder the kingdom's riches, but the whole fiasco did have its funny moments. Besides, it was a good example of how good magic overcame bad, and one where only the villains were killed. Plus it all happened before Morgana had turned against them.

Seeming to pick up on Arthur's thoughts, Merlin was happy to comply. “To tell the truth, when I first met her, I thought she was a beautiful, gracious lady who was kind to me. It was Gaius who was suspicious.”

“And not through magic, Sire,” Gaius hurried to explain. “When Lady Katrina visited Camelot as a child, she was not in good health. I treated her for a chronic bone disorder, an ailment which should have crippled her by the time she returned to the city as a woman grown, or more likely have killed her.”

All those around the table hung on Gaius's every word. “I suspected she wasn't who she claimed to be, so I sent Merlin with the medicine I had given her so long ago...”

“Only, she didn't know what I was offering,” Merlin added. “She looked completely mystified when I told her it was a potion from Gaius.” 

“That made us very wary, so next morning, Merlin returned to search her rooms on the pretext of collecting laundry and changing the bed linen.”

At this admission, Merlin sent Arthur a questioning look before he continued.

“Please, go ahead, Merlin,” Arthur smirked, gesturing for him to carry on. “I'm sure I would have objected strongly at the time, if I'd known, but I'm not going to get upset by something that happened so long ago, and probably on a regular basis...”

“Not a regular basis!” Merlin protested.

“Just now and then?” Arthur asked, deadpan.

“Exactly!” Merlin smiled, pleased his friend was so quick on the uptake. 

“Exactly?” Arthur's eyebrows rose. “Just how often?”

“Will you two stop!” Guinevere interrupted. “We would all like to know what happened next, and we never will if you two keep sniping at each other.”

“We're not sniping... We're just having a small altercation,” Arthur admitted sheepishly. He'd begun this conversation for a reason, and he'd let himself be distracted by the discovery of how often Merlin had tricked him. He thought he'd come to terms with Merlin's duplicity, but, clearly, they had some issues to clear up. Though not at present. “So, what did you find?”

“The room was empty and it looked like the bed hadn't been slept in, and there was this very strange smell.”

“I think we all remember the smell,” Arthur interjected, earning him another glare from his wife. He lifted his hands up in surrender. “Go on. I'll be quiet.”

Merlin nodded. “Then Jonas interrupted me, and I thought I noticed he had a tail.”

“A tail?” This time it was Leon who broke in.

“Yes, but I couldn't be sure.” Merlin divulged. “It all happened so fast.”

Suddenly, Arthur sat up straighter. “So that was why you were in my room that night, lowering a mirror on a rope down to the floor below? You weren't a young boy with a bad case of puppy love. You wanted proof that Katrina was a troll.”

“Yes,” replied Merlin smugly. “But it wasn't a rope. I used magic.”

“Right under my nose?” Arthur squeaked.

“You were supposed to be asleep!”

“Please, Sire, Merlin, forgive me, but this isn't helpful,” Geoffrey of Monmouth spoke up, at last, his voice so filled with gravitas that it shocked the younger men into silence. “I would like to ask Gaius why he didn't talk to King Uther? I, too, remembered the younger version of Katrina, and that she suffered from some ailment, though her father did try to keep it quiet. I expect he didn't want to spoil her chances of making a good marriage.”

“I wish I had remembered you met her too, my friend,” Gaius said, shaking his head sadly. “I could have used your support when I approached Uther.”

“Then you did speak to my father?”

“Indeed, Sire, but he chose not to listen.” Gaius steepled his fingers together as he recounted. “Rather forcefully, as I recollect... and when we finally unmasked the troll, it was too late. She had enchanted him.” 

“Did you use magic to show her in her true form?” Guinevere always asked the thoughtful questions.

All eyes turned to Merlin. “Not really. Troll magic is very powerful, and I was just an ordinary novice...”

“There was never anything ordinary about you, Merlin,” Gaius said, remembering the innocent young boy who'd barged into his chambers and saved his life with magic.

Iseldir gave a wise, world-weary smile. “Though you had yet to come into your powers, Emrys, the Druids always knew of your potential for greatness.” 

Arthur rolled his eyes. He fully accepted Merlin's persona, but to him, he'd always be just... Merlin. “If you didn't use magic, how did you expose her?”

“I used her own sorcery on her. She was taking a potion to hold the spell in place. Gaius simply made a similar, but useless one and I replaced the original, and let me tell you, Arthur, you might complain about evil tasting potions, but nothing could compare with how gross that was.”

“You tasted it?”

“Gaius made me.”

“Well, we had to get it right,” the physician explained. “If she had suspected...”

“I'd still have a troll for a step-mother and Camelot would have an ugly, avaricious queen. We would have become a laughing stock. Thank goodness you found a way to destroy her enchantment of my father.”

“You were the one who did that, Arthur.” Merlin smiled broadly to his friend. 

“I only did what you told me to, which proves that people of magic can work with normal people for the greater good.” Arthur finished with a grin, but there was a serious note in his voice. “I hope we all remember that fact from now onwards.”

The occupants of the room received Arthur's homily with different attitudes. Iseldir appeared surprised and pleased, while Leon looked thoughtful. The citadel's oldest magnate nodded his approval; Geoffrey remembered a time when magic was welcomed in Camelot and the land had prospered. Percival smiled, happy in the knowledge that his king and friends were safe and more likely to stay that way with magic on their side.

Merlin and Gaius simply exchanged satisfied glances. This discussion had gone better than they could have hoped, and all they'd done, so far, was recount an old story.

From the end of the table, Guinevere beamed at her husband. Merlin might have magic, but she had always known that Arthur had greatness in him too. Together they would work wonders.

*****


	8. The Demons In The Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some telepathic speech in this story and I have denoted such dialogue by using:- 
> 
> ~~ this ~~
> 
> There is one line is this chapter, but more in later ones. I hope you will find this clear enough.

Chapter Eight

The Demons in the Dark

In Merlin's new chambers, he and Iseldir, talked long into the night, sharing their experiences. Merlin had never felt more satisfied; happy in the knowledge that he could now speak openly of all things magical with people who understood his great gift.

The two men sat in high-backed chairs either side of the small fire burning in the grate; the nights were unseasonably cold and the castle servants had been instructed to light fires in the main chambers.

Merlin smiled a little uncomfortably, not yet at ease with the fact that he was now being waited upon. “When first I came to Camelot, I dreamed of the day magic would be accepted, but I never thought I'd be living in a grand chamber like this.”

“That doesn't surprise me, Emrys. You have never used magic for your own gains,” Isledir replied, looking around Merlin's new room. To tell the truth, as a Druid, he wasn't exactly comfortable living in the walled confines of a castle. His element was the rolling hills and high mountains, clothed in green forests and threaded by sparkling streams. And always, he preferred the air, free and fresh on his skin. However, it was right that he be here at this time. Iseldir suspected Emrys had not yet realised the extent of his dominion, but even the most powerful needed a friend and ally, now and then. “You are a true paragon of magic, so it is only right that you gain recognition for all you have done. But do not run too fast, because the laws on magic have not yet been overturned.”

Sitting forward and resting his elbows on his knees, Merlin sighed. “Indeed, I know. We have only taken the first step. Forgive me for being too optimistic,but I am just relieved that Arthur knows who I truly am and has not renounced me. I was afraid I'd be exiled, but I find myself living next door.” Merlin's boyish grin burst through again. At the moment, it was difficult to restrain his enthusiasm.

The older Druid could not resist his new friend's joy and he too smiled, though more gently. “That was never your destiny. We have always known you and Arthur would work together, though we waited long for the moment. Were we not so sure of the prophecies, we would have worried more. But fate moves at its own pace.” Iseldir gazed into the flames, a more serious expression descending over his features. “Does Arthur yet know of your immortality?” 

“No. So much has happened over the last few days, I haven't had time to tell him about that part...”

“Or about The Once and Future King?”

Merlin's fingers twisted. “He's heard the saying, he just doesn't realise what it means.”

“Do you intend to enlighten him?” Iseldir asked, his eyebrows raised in question, with just a tiny smidgen of judgment. “While it is true such a discussion needs to take place in an atmosphere of quiet and contemplation, and there doesn't promise to be much of that around in the near future, I would urge you not to wait too long. What he needs from you now is your candour.”

Pushing up from his chair, Merlin walked towards the table and the flagon of wine. He offered another drink to Iseldir, who refused with a small shake of his head. Merlin noticed the Druid preferred to drink water. He, however, took another for himself. His courage needed boosting whenever he thought of all those things he still had to inform Arthur about their future.

“I know I have to tell Arthur, but it's not going to be easy. I mean, it's not exactly a mundane topic of conversation... Oh, Arthur, did I forget to tell you, I'm immortal and you're going to die and come back to life when the kingdom is in a desperate situation? But don't ask me when that will be or what kind of danger will call you back, because the stupid dragon never told me that part.” Merlin downed another mouthful of wine, the tart taste making him shiver involuntary. One thing he'd have to suggest to Arthur was to change his wine supplier: that, at least, was easy. “He might not exile me, but he'll surely lock me up for being totally insane.”

“Do not underestimate Arthur's ability to surpass the commonplace, Merlin,” At last, Iseldir relented and used the warlock's given name. “I think Arthur might surprise you. One thing I do know... Arthur will never turn his back on his country or his people, whether that be now, or in hundreds of years' time.” Iseldir, too, rose. “But it is getting late, and Gaius has offered me a bed for the night, so I will wish you goodnight.”

Moving to cut off Iseldir's progress to the door, Merlin asked, “Didn't Arthur and Guinevere offer you a room? I'm sure they would have instructed...”

“Merlin, calm yourself. Queen Guinevere was very gracious, but I declined.” Once more his gaze strayed around the chamber. “I am not suited to such luxury. Believe me, I will be more comfortable with Gaius. I think I am to sleep in your old room, so I consider myself honoured. Now I wish you goodnight. Tomorrow promises to be a momentous day.” 

Once on his own, Merlin felt somewhat lonely. For years he'd shared Gauis' chambers, or he'd slept in inns, or under the stars with Arthur and the knights. His feelings of isolation were stupid. He wasn't a boy anymore, and his friends were just next door, but somehow he didn't suppose Arthur or Gwen would appreciate a visit right now. 

He took a walk around his spacious chamber, unable to suppress his astonishment at his change in status. He had asked for magic to be recognised, not for this jump up the social scale, but no doubt he'd become accustomed to it in time. At last, he shrugged and went to bed, forcing aside the disturbing questions Iseldir had raised.

*****

Meanwhile, in the chamber next door, completely unaware of Merlin's dilemmas, Arthur and Guinevere had retired to bed early, to peruse the records of previous grand councils in comfort; matters of state were less tedious now they shared ideas, and they both accepted they should learn the protocol, at least. Yet, protocol was boring, and there were other more exciting things to share; it had been a very long day and both contented themselves with a few kisses and warm hugs between loving whispers. Finally, they, too, closed their eyes. However, as sleep came to the residents of Camelot, far out in Albion's countryside, strange happenings were being put in motion. 

Night fell on the Pool of Nermain, the lochan's waters murky, still and deep, while a weird chill crept over the land. Clouds marched like ranks of an unruly army across the sky, imprisoning the brightness of moon and stars. Natural light had fled from this place; there was no room for its radiance at this dread moment. 

The hooded man held aloft a burning torch, which glanced off the mirrored water, but failed to pierce the darkness of either land or sky. In his other hand he held a golden disc, a precious commodity if he was to retrieve the one person who could aid him in his quest. In his mind, he repeated the spell the old crone had taught him, an enchantment of too much importance to make a mistake. When, finally, he was satisfied, he cast the disc far out over the water, and glimpsed it sink below the surface, muttering the words quietly as he stared. It wouldn't help his cause to be overheard, though he was sure no one dared live by this doomed lake, and the dead did not listen physically.

Long moments passed, and nothing stirred. Had he spoken the spell wrong? He repeated it more forcefully. He had tried so hard, had sought help from all he could think of after finding the body. From the Sidhe on the shores of Avalon, to the Dochraid in her dank lair, they had all offered aid. The Sidhe Elder had gifted him the golden coin... it needed the finest metal to buy the soul of a High Priestess, and sent him to see the Dochraid, an experience he had found unpleasant. Yet she had instructed him where to go and what to do and, only when he had refused to give up the coin, did she finally repeat the spell which must be spoken. If he got it wrong, only a shade would rise from the depths.

He glanced at the body, lying frozen in death. His torch glinted off the ivory skin, the black lashes resting motionless against high cheekbones. She had always been a beautiful woman, and his heart had quickened at his first sight of her so long ago. Though, even then, he had used her for his own ends.

How could he have known? How could a renegade Druid, with only a smattering of sorcery, have realised the power of the woman she would become? She had helped him escape from the dungeons and, since his band of freedom fighters were either dead or scattered, he had flown Camelot's borders. He had traveled north west, across the sea to where he had found a place where sorcery was welcomed. This country of forests and high hills, with only a tiny population, most of whom were afraid but revered all things mystical, gave him a home. There he had honed his skills, such as they were. 

Then came the rumours, seeping their way slowly across the known lands, of a new High Priestess, who was waging war against The Pendragons. For a time, no one had credited the whispers, yet they grew in strength and detail, and he dared believe that the woman, whom he had met briefly, might be this divinity of The Old Religion.

He had returned with as much speed as he could muster, but still he had arrived too late. The Battle of Camlann had been fought and lost, yet both sides had lost much. The great King Arthur was dead, or so he had heard. Which meant both Uther and Arthur had gone beyond his vengeance.

At first, it seemed the High Priestess had triumphed, but then came new murmurs from the earth itself. The hope of The Old Religion had been killed. Someone had found a way to slay her... Emrys!

The Druid could not allow this act of heresy to go unpunished. He visited the battle site, yet found no sign of his mistress's body; but, again he listened to the surviving Saxon's tales, of how their warrior princess had survived and gone in search of her arch foes, her half-brother Arthur and his servant Merlin, who were heading to Avalon.

Without hesitation, he had picked up the trail, following alone and on foot, since the Saxons, defeated and licking their wounds, had retired east to their heartlands. It had taken him some time, yet he had found what he least wanted: the dead body of Lady Morgana.

His worst fears had come true. He could not help her; could not repay her for saving his life; could not share in her triumph and aid her in returning The Old Religion to Albion.

But the Druid was nothing if not persistent. He was a fighter, just as this beautiful woman had been. To free herself from The Pendragons' snare, to take over Camelot's throne not once but twice and, finally, be instrumental in killing both Pendragons, took tenacity, courage and great power.

And, if the latest rumours were true, then Arthur had beaten death, and he was not magical, but Morgana was. Surely, a High Priestess could outdo her mortal brother?

Repeating the spell once more, he hardly dared breathe as his eyes scanned the lake. Was that a ripple on the water, hardly more than a quiver? But it came again, spreading outwards until a dark mist lifted into the cold air. Swirling, twisting, black upon blackness, drifting towards the shore, coalescing as it floated towards him. Only he wasn't the fog's target. It eddied around him, seeming to touch him with ghost-like fingers, before moving onwards, hovering over Morgana's corpse. There it stayed, surrounding her like a halo, until it settled upon her waxen skin. 

Gradually, the ethereal cloud permeated Morgana's form, and the Druid waited for a sign of life. He stepped closer, but time seemed to stand still. Desperation crawled along every sinew and muscle, and clawed at his nerves. He needed proof that all his efforts hadn't been in vain.

~~Morgana!~~

But his cry was inside his head, though there was no one to hear. With a groan breaking from his twisted lips, he slumped to the ground, weary beyond bearing. There was no reason to live.

How long he sat there, he couldn't say. It could have been moments, or hours. In his state of abject misery, time meant little.

So it was he didn't see the flutter of Morgana's eyelashes, or the sporadic movement of her eyes behind those smokey black lashes. However, he did feel a hand tighten around his wrist, with uncommon strength for a slim young woman.

“Morgana!” He scrambled onto his knees, as she stared at him with unfocused eyes, then sent her gaze wandering over her surroundings.

“Where am I?” she asked in a weak, croaky voice, as if her lungs and vocal chords were still locked in a challenge with death. She did, however, manage to sit up, staring with fascination at the black waters of Nermain. “Wait, I think I know this place. I remember someone rising from the waters.” Morgana pressed her hand to her forehead. It was a man, she thought, a handsome man, but so long ago, she could scarcely remember. “I don't believe it was you.” She turned her attention back to the man at her side, who appeared to shrink from her.

“No, milady, not me,” he said quietly, unsure how to treat her. 

The Sidhe Elder and the Dochraid had explained, that under normal circumstances, a body which rose from the pool would be an empty shell, but given magical help from both these ancient sorcerers, the water had yielded Morgana's spirit. 

Since he already had her body, and the Sidhe had created an enchantment which would slow down the process of its decay, he hoped with all his heart that the two would meld and the last High Priestess would take her place in the world once more.

“Do I know you?” Her voice broke into his musings, as she edged backwards, placing some distance between them. “Why have you brought me here?”

This was not going to plan. Morgana was regarding him like he was a piece of horse's dung beneath her shoe.

“My name is Alvarr, and we met a long time ago. I like to think you considered me a friend.” But at Morgana's continuing suspicious look, he went on. “You're here because I am acting on advice. They told me to bring you here,” he explained, stretching out a hand to lay it soothingly on her arm. “They mentioned you might be disorientated at first, but you are safe now, and alive. That is all that matters.”

Ignoring the first part of his statement, Morgana demanded, “Who told you, and did they threaten my life?”

“No! They only wanted to help.” His voice rose in frustration. “They are your allies, the Sidhe and the Dochraid.”

There was a moment of complete silence.

“How dare you treat me like a fool!” Pushing his hand aside, she rose into a crouch as if she was preparing to bolt, like a delicate young doe from a hunter. “These people are sorcerers, and you must know I have no dealings with magic!”

The Druid stood, but his stance was loose, as if every bone in his body had turned to liquid. This was not how he dreamed their reunion would be. Morgana was supposed to view him as her saviour and together they would continue her fight to destroy what was left of Camelot, bringing sorcery back to the land. In his wilder moments, he had even imagined she would return his unspoken feelings and they would rule this broken land, forging it in their image.

“Sorcery is evil.” she cried out as she too stood, though rather unsteadily, but only in body, her spirit was strong. “Is that what you are - a sorcerer? Did you kidnap me? You have no right. I am Morgana, Lady of Camelot.” Her voice took on a haughty tone. “I demand you return me, with haste, if you value your life, to my guardian. King Uther Pendragon!”

*****

As Lady Morgana ordered her return to Camelot, inside the citadel another dark haired woman was stirring. At first, she dreamed. She dreamed of her husband dying, and even in sleep her brow drew down. 

No! It was not true. He lived! Merlin and Percival had brought him home and he was safe. He had held her in his arms and she had kissed him. Oh, how she had kissed him.

But if that was the way it happened, then why did she see him lying here in their bed, so white, so silent, his breath scarcely marking Gaius' mirror? She had seen all that; watched Gaius try to save him, while everyone in Camelot waited for his death. She had sat by the bedside... and she had not felt pain, nor sorrow. 

No! She had felt joy?

At that she woke. She pushed herself upright, staring into the dim room. Her breath heaved, as if she had run for miles, being chased by a... monster... a monster called truth? Her heart pounded so loudly in her chest, she was sure Arthur would wake.

Arthur!

Almost too afraid to look, she forced herself to turn. Even in the darkness, she could see the sheen of his blond hair. His head was hard up against where her shoulder must have rested, his hand still stretched across her body. Lightly, she touched his arm, trailing her hand up towards his shoulder, the column of his neck. His skin was warm and firm, his muscles now relaxed in sleep. Under her fingers she felt his pulse beat, steady and strong.

There, at the end of the bed, the scrolls they had been studying earlier were scattered; fallen in disarray, as their attention had strayed to each other and more pleasurable pastimes. 

All was well.

It was a nightmare, just a nightmare. After all, they had been through so much these last days, it was no wonder her subconscious was still afraid for him.

Gwen drew some deep, calming breaths, then slipped back into Arthur's arms. In time she slept again.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it has taken me three days to post, but I lost track of time and I was pretty busy. 3 days seems like a fairly good interval, so I'm hoping to make that my schedule. I hope that's acceptable.


	9. The Gathering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter Arthur takes the next step in keeping his promise to Merlin to bring magic back to his kingdom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've introduced some Original Characters in this chapter. I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoyed creating them.

Chapter Nine

The Gathering

On the morning of Arthur's great council, and much against his own wishes, he had spent longer resting in bed, which, after all, hadn't been too unpleasant. In fact, quite the opposite, since Guinevere had chosen to share his sojourn. However, Merlin and Gaius might not have been so happy, as rest wasn't the only thing they did, though he did nap afterwards.

He'd wakened alone, a little upset to find himself so, but he couldn't blame his wife, as she had to prepare for the visitors who had already begun to arrive in Camelot.

Merlin had turned up just as Arthur had decided to get out of bed and dress himself, because contrary to everyone's weird ideas, he did know how to dress himself. Merlin hadn't arrived alone, he was followed by a line of servants, carrying a large tub and jugs of hot water, linens and clean clothes.

Dismissing the servants, Arthur proceeded to show Merlin that he wasn't completely helpless, washing and drying himself, and even putting on his own trousers, though he did allow his friend to take a look at the wound in his chest.

“The outer wound is healing well, but I'm afraid you are going to have a scar, Arthur,” Merlin said as he finished his examination.

“Can't you fix it with your magic?” Arthur asked, though, to tell the truth, he'd never been vain about his appearance. 

“Sorry, but I don't use magic for beautification purposes. Besides, don't you warrior types count battle scars as some sort of badge of honour?”

“I suppose, but I was only thinking of Guinevere.” Arthur sounded a little disappointed. He was actually enjoying exploring the extent of Merlin's magic and what he was prepared to use it for.

“Don't be silly. Guinevere would love you if you grew donkey ears.”

“Merlin! Was that you? Don't forget, I could only neigh too!” Arthur jumped up from his seat on the end of the bed, thoroughly annoyed at the audacity of his onetime servant. There was only so much a king could forgive.

“Me?” Merlin looked aghast. “Would I do anything like that to you? On second thoughts, don't answer that, but in this case, I'm entirely innocent. It was that pesky goblin, and that is old news,” Merlin stated, holding up Arthur's shirt for him to shrug into. “And I was the one who finally captured it.”

“So, I can't put you in the stocks for that transgression?” 

Out of habit, Arthur slipped into the shirt, but as Merlin fished a belt and leather jacket from the pile of clothes, he took them from Merlin's hand, much to the warlock's amusement. When fully fit, Arthur had been inclined to allow Merlin to pander to him, but now he clearly felt he had something to prove, and Merlin was happy to let him be.

“What is your obsession with putting me in the stocks?” Merlin demanded, pretending to be hurt.

“Actually, if you recollect, it was my father who normally had you confined in the stocks, except for that first time, when you should have known better to insult a prince of Camelot. My actions were perfectly justified,” he asserted, wrapping the belt around his waist and fastening the buckle.

“Justified because you were a royal ass!”

About to retort, Arthur suddenly thought better. “You're probably right, Merlin. I was a pampered prince, but I wasn't a totally stupid one. I always knew there was something fishy about you. I just didn't think it was magic...” He shook his head in amazement. “It's a wonder you kept that head on your shoulders during my father's reign.”

“I did almost lose it once or twice,” Merlin chuckled. “Though I always promised myself I'd use my magic to escape if the worst came to the worst, but that was before I got to know you and learned of my destiny.”

Suddenly, Arthur grew serious. “Would you ever have left me?”

Merlin's blue eyes connected with Arthur's troubled glance. “No, and I never will. You're stuck with me for life.” He wanted to add and beyond, but he still wasn't sure his friend was ready for the concept of immortality and resurrection. “Anyway we've more pressing problems to worry about now.”

Happy with Merlin's answer, Arthur decided to face the current dilemma. “The council meeting this afternoon? I take it some of the nobles have arrived? Of course, the opening is purely ceremonial; tomorrow is when the hard work begins. Not all the councillors are going to be happy about our proposals, so it's up to us to convince them.” He indicated Merlin and himself, while he sat down to put on his boots, but that action wasn't as easy as he'd anticipated. Merlin hurried to assist him, but he held up his hand. “Merlin, I've told you I don't want you serving me all the time, and it's just a little painful to bend down, but I'll manage, and I'm sure it will get better in time, the pain I mean.” He looked up at his friend, an expression both questioning and almost fearful on his face.

“I believe it will,” Merlin assured him, as Arthur finally succeeded in donning his boots. “Gaius tells me that the body will manufacture a cushion around the shard all by itself. Nature is a wonderful thing, even without magic. Well, that's not quite true, because nature is magic,” Merlin waffled, but brought himself up short. “I'm afraid we have no time for an intellectual conversation. The council isn't our only complication.” 

“What else is wrong?” Arthur asked, his interest immediately caught, and he pushed his arms, distractedly, into the sleeves of the jacket Merlin had retrieved and was holding up. “Have the Saxons rallied?”

“Only in small groups, or so Leon told me. They will fight if confronted, but, mainly, they're trying to escape.” Merlin finished smoothing the coat across Arthur's shoulders. “It's something else. You know we sent out patrols to search for Morgana's body?” 

“Yes.” Arthur turned to face Merlin, his brow furrowing. “They've returned already?”

Merlin stepped back, crossing his hands across his chest. “No, but they have sent back a messenger. So far, they've found no trace of Morgana, dead or alive.” 

“Merlin, she was dead! We both saw her. You used Excalibur, a sword forged in a dragon's breath, and I heard her say that only a sword forged by a dragon could kill her,” Arthur said, crossing to the table and pouring two goblets of watered wine. He took a drink from one and handed the other to Merlin. “Excalibur is such a sword, isn't it?”

Camelot's warlock flushed, while shifting from foot to foot. He'd been discovered. “I believe so, sire.”

“And you would know this because Gaius told you that along with the tale about Bruta's sword?” Arthur pointed his cup at Merlin. “Be careful what you say, Merlin. I've accepted you had to lie to me in the past, but we have agreed there will be no more secrets nor lies.”

“I'm guessing you wouldn't accept the fact that Bruta had a sword forged in a dragon's breath. It's possible, since there were more dragons around at that time, and he was a great king?”

Pouting, Arthur shook his head.

“I didn't think so,” Merlin said, flatly. “That sword was stuck in that stone, you know.”

“But not by Bruta.” Arthur sat down and stared at Merlin, his blue eyes piercing. “How did it get there?”

Merlin twisted his cup, nervously. “You know, it's a very long story, and I will tell you the truth, but there is much to be done for the opening this afternoon. These ceremonies can be tricky.” He edged toward the door. “And we really should talk to Leon and the messenger...”

“Geoffrey of Monmouth will take care of most of it.” Arthur placed his elbows on the table. “Merlin, you put it there, didn't you? With magic?”

There was a pause, while Merlin searched for some escape, some plausible reason, but, finally, he chose the truth. He was done with fabrication. “Yes.”

“And I didn't pull it out alone. You used your magic to help?”

Merlin shrugged uncomfortably. “Arthur, you'd almost given up. You were depressed, unsure you were fit to be King. I had to think of something, and quickly. Camelot needed you! The city was suffering under Morgana and Helios.”

Arthur rose slowly and crossed to the window, looking down on the bustling square. “Then my whole kingship is based on a lie.”

“No, never! Excalibur was made for you. Kilgarrah forged it for you, and you alone, though he didn't mind me borrowing it occasionally.”

That fact made Arthur turn. “You? Merlin you're hopeless with a sword. When did you use it?”

“It was the only weapon that could kill Morgause's immortal army. I used it to get to the Cup of Life and empty it of the blood it held. Then the soldiers just... disappeared.”

“So that's what happened. We were fighting them in the dungeons, and losing, until they vanished. I assumed Lancelot had... but it was you. Even back then you were saving Camelot.”

“We, Arthur! We were saving Camelot,” Merlin said quietly. “And Kilgarrah was very insistent that after I used the sword, I had to put it where no mortal hand could wield it, only yours. You, the once and future king.”

“Merlin, you keep saying that. What does it mean?”

Merlin shrugged again. “I'm not totally sure. It was one of Kilgarrah's favourite sayings. He talked in riddles a lot, you know. I think the Druids also call you that, so perhaps you should ask Iseldir.”

There were a few minutes of silence while Arthur contemplated Merlin's explanation, then he too shrugged. “You know, Merlin, I'm pretty certain I haven't heard the whole story, but you are right; we do have more pressing problems and they need to be attended to now.” Arthur passed Merlin on his way to the door, but just before he reached it, he stopped suddenly, causing the warlock to crash into his back. Arthur turned.

“But this is just a reprieve.” Arthur poked Merlin's chest with his finger. “When Camelot is finally at peace, you and I are going to have a very long talk, and you are going to confess everything. Understand?”

“Yes, Sire,” Merlin said, unsure if he should feel relieved or not. Whatever had happened to letting go of the past?

“And, Merlin, do stop calling me sire!” Arthur said. Opening the door, he swept into the passageway, while a tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth. He was looking forward to some interesting conversations with his friend in the future, as Merlin sought to come up with creative excuses for his more questionable actions to save himself and Camelot. 

Merlin followed quickly, deciding that feeling relieved might not be too wrong. After all, Arthur had just told him, again, not to call him sire.

*****

Arthur's first order of business was to question the messenger from the search parties, and with that in mind, he made his way to the smaller council chamber, only to find it full of noblemen and their families. The only soldiers in sight were the guards who were positioned at the doors and around the walls.

The room was fairly heaving with Albion's great and good. Even his and Guinevere's thrones had been pushed back against the far wall to create more space. As he entered, the guards snapped to attention and every gaze turned in his direction.

Although diverted from his true goal, common courtesy demanded that The King mingle with his liege men, so he donned his regal pose and strode into the crowd, most of them falling back to give him whatever room was available. 

He moved among them, thanking them for their swift answer to his summons, and taking advantage of Merlin's presence to introduce him to some of the more approachable nobles. But it was clear, from the sombre looks being thrown at the young warlock, that not all present were ready to welcome a sorcerer into their company.

In the midst of the throng, Arthur saw Guinevere, every inch the gracious queen, talking with one of Camelot's most noble families, the Lord and Lady of Walton. Without a thought, he made his way to her side, Merlin still following closely in his wake.

“Greetings, Sire.” The elderly man bowed and his wife bobbed a curtsey. “I was gladdened to learn that the stories of your death were untrue, My Lord. It was a joy to be summoned to Camelot to see for myself. I remember you as a small child playing in this very room with another boy, I believe his name was Kay. A man of my age shouldn't live to see young men die, and yet I hear we suffered many casualties in the latest conflict.” The man's voice faltered slightly on those words, and a tear gleamed in his pale eyes.

Arthur inclined his head, while his hand sought his wife's. If his memory served him well, this elderly couple had lost both their children to the sweating sickness many years ago, so he spoke kindly. “Sadly, you're correct about the number of our dead and wounded. It grieves Guinevere and me much, but our fallen will not be forgotten, that I promise.” Arthur's blue eyes misted slightly, but his chin lifted in determination at his vow. “I welcome you to Camelot, Lord Cedric and Lady Amena. I too remember you as a friend of my father, and I'm sorry that your visits were infrequent.”

“You must blame me for that, Sire,” Lady Amena spoke up, her voice slow and frail. “I am in poor health, and my husband refuses to leave me at home.”

“All the more reason to thank you for attending our council,” Arthur replied. His eyes searched Cedric's lined face. “I fear I will need the support of my friends in the coming debate.”

“Debate, now there's a word I never thought to hear from a Pendragon!”

At Cedric's statement, Arthur's shoulders drooped, but the older man smiled. “Uther might have been my friend, but he was the most stubborn, pig-headed man I ever encountered. I can't remember how often I suggested he should listen before he acted, but your father was never one to heed advice. To tell the truth,” and here Lord Cedric leaned closer and dropped his voice, “after your mother died, Amena's ill-health was often a timely excuse for staying away, though we did visit occasionally. I had hoped Uther might mellow, but he never did.”

Like the sun passing from behind a cloud, Arthur's winning smile broke across his face. “In that case, my lord and lady, might I introduce you to my friend and physician, Adviser Merlin Emrys. If you truly give thanks for my continuing good health, then this is the man responsible.”

“Greetings, Adviser Merlin Emrys,” Cedric said, heartily. “Your reputation goes before you.” At the shocked look on the face of Arthur's friend, who appeared little more than a boy to a man of Cedric's age, the nobleman confessed. “I have been speaking to Gaius, and he has nothing but praise for you.”

“Merlin has all our praises,” Guinevere said gently, patting her husband's hand, while smiling on Merlin, then she quickly turned her attention back to her guests. “But Lady Amena, you look tired, perhaps you would wish to rest before the evening meal.”

“Thank you, My Lady, I would be most grateful. I'm afraid my old bones don't travel well these days,” Lady Amena bobbed again and smiled at The Queen.

“Then let me lead you to your chamber,” Guinevere suggested, her hand leaving her husband's, though she leaned close to whisper in his ear. “We are going to be hard pressed to house all these people. I directed George to clear the dining room and escort a number of others there. I didn't know Camelot had so many grandees.”

“I'm not sure I did either,” he replied, using her closeness to press a kiss on her cheek. “Do the best you can, and find Lord Geoffrey; he will, at least, know the order of importance of these nobles, some of whom I've never met before.” His eyes were searching the room again, looking for familiar faces and, more importantly, that of a tired, hard-ridden messenger.

Lady Amena's gaze was also taking in the crowded room. “My dear, if you do not mind me be being too familiar, perhaps you could send for a servant to show us to a quiet place to rest...”

“Please, Lady Amena, it's no trouble,” Guinevere replied. “To be honest, I wouldn't mind a quiet few moments myself. I never expected so many people to attend,” she added, a somewhat drawn smile on her lovely face. “Come, let me show you.”

“We would be honoured, Your Highness,” Lord Cedric said, nodding his head to The King, once more, as he walked after The Queen and his wife. 

“I didn't know you were friends of Gaius.” 

Overhearing his wife, Arthur took the opportunity to leave the crowded chamber and follow close on their heels. He knew he had a good deal of canvassing to do before they got down to the important business of tomorrow, but in the meantime his priority was to talk to the courier who might have information about Morgana.

“Oh, indeed! Gaius has been good to us over the years,” Amena continued, turning to include Arthur and Merlin in the conversation. “Some years ago, when the sweating fever epidemic swept through the land, myself and my children fell ill. Gaius tried very hard to save our children, but, alas, I was the only one to survive. Secretly, I asked him to use magic to heal them, but Cedric wouldn't hear of it...”

“I had sworn allegiance to Uther, you see, and I refused to break his laws.” The older lord's stature seemed to shrink. “And not one day has passed that I didn't regret my choice. So you see, Arthur, when I heard the summons to this council to debate the return of magic, nothing on this earth could keep me or my wife away. If our opinion counts for anything, we support you, Sire, and I will do my best to persuade the doubters.”

“And Queen Guinevere and I will have a word with the wives,” Amena said with a conspiring look, which vied with her fragile form. “I'm sure we can gain you a few more votes; don't you think so, My Lady?” 

With a wide grin, Guinevere agreed. “Oh, I'm sure you're quite formidable, Lady Amena. Between us, we'll have the married men agreeing in no time, and please, my name is Guinevere.”

Amena bent her head in salute. “And I am Amena.” She smiled as Gwen linked her arm through hers. “My dear, I never thought when I came to Camelot that I was going to have so much fun. Come along, Cedric,” she called. “We have some planning to do and not a lot of time to do it.” Then she turned her attention back to Arthur. “And I believe, Sire, if your discomfited manner is anything to go by, that you have something else important to do.”

“I do, indeed, Lady Amena, so I'll leave you in the capable hands of my wife, but I will check in later, to see how your plotting is going along.”

“Good, and it's Amena, dear boy. Now do run along and attend to whatever is worrying you.”

Arthur stopped, his mouth slightly agape. “Thank you, yes... Amena.” He pointed, airily, over his shoulder. “I'll just go... then.”

Behind, the gray-haired lady, Guinevere was struggling to stifle a giggle as she watched her royal husband reduced to the state of a stammering school boy. But she had no time to enjoy the moment as Lady Amena took her arm and led her away. Lord Cedric gave an apologetic shrug and walked off.

Watching, Arthur blew out his lips, while Merlin laughed and said, “Well, if Amena is allowed a vote at this Grand Council, I don't think we have any need to worry.”

“Unfortunately, she isn't,” Arthur declared with some disappointment. “But, at least, we can count on Cedric's vote.”

“I'm sure we'll have more supporters, Arthur.”

“Oh, I'm sure. Probably persuaded by their wives!”

The two friends looked at each other and burst into laughter. It was good to lighten the mood for a few moments, but their anxiety over the mystery of a missing body couldn't be denied and they headed down the stairs to the armoury in search of the messenger.

“By the way, what was that about? Adviser Merlin Emrys?” the warlock inquired as they hurried along.

Arthur shrugged again. “Just Merlin seems somewhat inadequate... not that you are inadequate,” Arthur quickly added. “I wanted your name to reflect your change of status, and since people of magic know you by Emrys, it seemed appropriate. Don't you like it? It does have a certain ring to it.”

“Adviser Merlin Emrys?” Merlin rolled his new title around on his tongue. “Merlin Emrys. I suppose it does...”

“Of course, you'll always be 'just Merlin' to your friends...”

“Like you're 'just Arthur'?”

“Exactly!” For the space of a second, Arthur sounded pleased, then he realised Merlin was teasing. “Merlin!”

Merlin took to his heels down the next flight of stairs, his king hot on his trail, but they skidded to a halt when they spotted Percival rounding the corner, seemingly in search of his king.

“Sire, we have the courier,” the large knight called, hurrying to Arthur and Merlin. “But since Camelot seems to be full to the hilt, we took the liberty of taking him to Sir Leon's chambers. Actually, for the moment, I've moved in with Leon to free up a room, but Alane is tired and hungry and anxious to pass on his news, such as it is. Leon and I thought you would like to talk in private.”

“You did well, Percival,” Arthur said, though there was an edge of trepidation in his voice as the three headed for the east wing where the knights were housed. “I take it the news isn't good?”

“Neither good nor bad, but you should hear it from Alane,” Percival replied, leading the way.

They walked quickly, but in silence, each sunk in their own thoughts of what could have possibly happened to Morgana's body. When they reached Leon's chamber, Arthur knocked, but entered without waiting for an answer.

Inside, the young soldier was gnawing hungrily on a chicken leg, while swilling it down with water from a beaker. He looked up as the door opened, and seeing The King, he quickly dropped on one knee, swaying a little as he did so.

“Your Highness,” he spluttered, almost choking on his food.

Without a thought, The King stretched out his hand and helped the young man back to his seat. “There's no need for ceremony when we're alone, Alane, but please tell me what you know.”

Placing plate and cup on a small table, Alane cleared his throat. He was grateful for his monarch's benevolence, but was unused to dealing with royalty and found himself almost lost for words.

“Alane,” Arthur prompted, trying to restrain his impatience. “We are waiting...”

“Yes, Sire. We... the patrol, that is, searched the area Sir Percival mapped out for us, but we didn't find a body...”

“Could she have been alive, Merlin?” An anxious Arthur cut in.

“Sire, there is more,” the messenger added, gaining confidence in his eagerness to relate all of his news. “There was no body, but the dogs found a trace of blood on the ground where you said you left her.”

“Are they sure it was human blood?” Arthur asked again. He had to know Morgana's fate, for his own sake and that of Camelot.

“The dog handlers were sure, Sire. These dogs are trained only to smell out humans... they said.”

“So we know she was injured, if not dead,” Merlin surmised, coming further into the room. “Though I swear I saw no signs of life before we left her.”

“Did they manage to track the blood?” Again, Arthur questioned his soldier.

“It wasn't easy, My Lord, but the dogs did find more spots of blood.”

Arthur sat down, heavily, on Leon's bed, his face turning pale. “Then she was still alive! Will Camelot ever be rid of her malevolence?” He dropped his head into his hands, unable to contemplate a further confrontation with his sister.

“Please, Sire, can I speak?” Young Alane ventured to approach The King, but Arthur was so lost in his own thoughts, he didn't hear.

Merlin stepped forward. “There is more to tell?” 

“Yes, Lord.” This was the king's manservant, but from what he'd heard on the castle gossip-mill, it turned out he was a powerful warlock too, so Alane felt it was best to be safe rather than sorry and use a title. “The master tracker doesn't believe Morgana walked away from that place.”

Those words caught Arthur's attention and he sat up straighter. “Does he have any idea what happened?”

“He says he has a... theory.” The young man hesitated over the last word, not being schooled in anything other than soldiering. “Though he cannot know for sure.”

“Then tell us of his theory,” Arthur said, his voice now calm and even. It was clear to him that Alane had little experience talking with royalty, but The King knew well how to deal with callow recruits. “But take another drink before you start. You must be parched after your long ride.”

“Thank you, Sire.” And Alane did as he was told, snatching at the cup Percival offered him and downing a long draught.

“There is nothing for you to worry about,” Arthur continued. “You're doing your job well. Just stay calm and tell us everything that happened during the search.”

Finding his king not to be as intimidating as he'd supposed, the soldier drew himself up and began recounting the facts exactly as he'd been told. “We reached the spot Sir Percival had mentioned, and it was true, there was no body, and very few signs that anyone had ever been there, but Becan is a master at his trade. He and his dogs refused to give up, and they did find blood. The dogs went mad and were on it right away. They soon found more, too, but what was strange is that they found no footprints, apart from your own, Sire, and Lord Merlin's which were headed down toward the lake of Avalon, just as we'd been told.”

“Then Morgana vanished by magic?” Leon asked, addressing the group, but looking at Merlin.

“It's possible. We know she's transported from Camelot before, but that was when she was alive.” Merlin answered slowly, giving the matter some thought. “I'm sorry to disappoint you, Leon, but I'm not an expert on all things magical, particularly when it pertains to a High Priestess, and whatever else Morgana was, she was certainly that. I'd have to confer with Gaius and read some of his books before I could verify that High Priestesses vanish on death.” 

Standing and beginning to pace the small room, Arthur did his best thinking on his feet, he said. “No, that doesn't make sense. If she was going to vanish, wouldn't she have done so like Morgause's enchanted soldiers?”

“True, Arthur.” Now it was Merlin's turn to pace. “Those soldier's disappeared the moment they were struck with Excalibur.”

“Now I know I wasn't fully conscious at the time, but her body was lying there when we left?” He looked to Merlin for confirmation.

“It was! And I'd be prepared to swear she was dead,” Merlin asserted. There had been no doubt in his mind that he'd killed Morgana. Not then and not now.

Both men stopped in front of the other, sharing views as they so often did, but it was the first time Leon and Percival had witnessed such an intense exchange, and they wouldn't have been surprised to see sparks fly.

“And, according to Alane, she left behind some blood. If she had vanished into the ether, wouldn't the blood disappear too?” Arthur mused, staring directly at Merlin. “Isn't it more likely someone retrieved her body, then covered their tracks?”

“Yes, Sire! That's exactly what Master Becan said.” Alane blurted out in excitement, happy that King Arthur and Lord Merlin agreed.

All eyes swung to the young soldier. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt,” Alane said, flushing red in embarrassment.

“No, no! Please do interrupt,” Arthur smiled, encouragingly, at Alane. “It's clear you have more to tell, and it is we who interrupted your report.”

Alane couldn't believe his luck. He'd heard it said, from guards who had met The King, that King Arthur treated all his men well, but he'd never dreamed he'd be standing in a room, reporting to The King directly, and all because Sir Huiel had judged him the fastest horseman. Alane determined to do his job to the best of his ability.

“Sire, I will tell you all that I know. Becan thought someone had carried Lady Morgana off, so he widened the search, and it was then he found even more blood. He let the dogs follow the trail and we came upon footprints. Just one set. Sir Huiel believed the unknown person had judged himself far enough away from the original spot that he could cease to mask his tracks.”

“Or perhaps was tiring and growing careless,” Arthur said, placing himself in his enemy's shoes. “Did the search parties discover where the trail led?”

“They were leading to the Lake of Avalon, but by a different route to the one you took, Sire. Sir Huiel is continuing with the search, but he sent me back to tell you what we'd discovered, and that he will keep you informed.”

“Alane, thank you for your report. Finish your meal and rest up. When this council is concluded, present yourself to me and you will have your reward.” Arthur touched Merlin's shoulder. “Come, we have a lot to do and the hour of the opening ceremony approaches. Sir Leon, take care of Alane, then you and Percival join me in the great hall. Judging from the amount of people who have chosen to attend this council, it promises to be a momentous occasion.”

“Let us hope things go our way,” Merlin added, somewhat wistfully.

“We live in hope, Merlin!” Arthur said, marching from the room.

*****


	10. Taking Sides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grand Council finally starts. I've given Geoffrey of Monmouth a slightly bigger role in this story, as I felt the show didn't use him quite enough, especially towards the end.
> 
> I've also introduced another knight because we lost two in S5... poor Gwaine in the finale.

Chapter Ten  
Taking Sides

The horns sounded, rising in triumphant notes to the vaulted ceiling of Camelot's great hall, and silence fell in fits and starts over the assembled throng; too many people had too much to talk about for any of them to pay immediate attention to the horn's warning call, but slowly quiet descended. When, eventually, the silence was complete, the heavy wooden doors at the end of the large chamber opened and King Arthur and Queen Guinevere walked into the room, The Queen's hand resting on her husband's arm. Behind them walked Merlin, clad somewhat awkwardly in his new, hastily produced blue robe, trimmed with silver thread, while the Knights Leon and Percival brought up the rear.

The walk was long, but Arthur kept the group to a steady pace, stepping into the panels of light and shade that patterned the floor, cast by the afternoon sun shining through the tall windows which lined one side of the hall. How often had he made this walk in his life, first behind his father, then, after his crowning, alone, and finally with Guinevere at his side? A few days ago, he had accepted he would never see this hall, or Camelot again, but thanks to Merlin and a friend he'd believed an enemy, he was home and still at the helm. Because of their selfless actions, he had promises to keep, and this was the beginning.

When they reached the dais, where two richly carved and cushioned thrones stood, Arthur turned to face the crowded room, with Guinevere and the others taking their appointed places alongside him. 

Only Merlin's position had changed, and he now stood at his king's right hand, slightly back and between the thrones. At first, Merlin had wanted to stay buried in the assembly, with the rest of the knights and Gaius, but on this Arthur remained adamant. Merlin, or the way Arthur viewed his friend had changed; in fact, Merlin had changed, full stop, and the people of Albion might as well get used to his new status from now onward.

Arthur took a moment to let the ambiance of the beautifully appointed hall seep into his soul. This place and the people before him were the heart and soul of his kingdom, and he loved them with a passion that only someone who had almost lost everything could appreciate. He closed his eyes to thank whatever gods were watching over him and blessed him with this sacred responsibility... the care of Albion.

Yet he could sense those gathering in the hall growing restless, feel Guinevere's hand tighten in his own, as she glanced worriedly in his direction, clearly wondering if he was well? He returned her gaze with a bright smile, then turned to face the crowds, still smiling.

Rumours of his death had spread like wildfire across his kingdom, and though most of his people had now learned of his remarkable recovery, it was best that they should witness for themselves that their king was alive, well and very happy to be back. Though it were better that they didn't realise that the 'well' part was subjective. He tried not to dwell on that part himself, and he had to admit that he was feeling better.

However, this Grand Council was the first and, quite probably, the most important of his reign, and it was time to begin. Understanding the value of holding with tradition, he nodded to Geoffrey of Monmouth, who was on the far side of the dais, awaiting The King's signal. The High Steward now stepped forward and addressed the assembly in solemn voice.

“People of Camelot and Albion, The puissant King Arthur Pendragon has called a meeting of The Grand Council of this land, the first of his reign, and with the power invested in me, I now declare this council open.” 

As Geoffrey of Monmouth returned to his place, there was another call from the horns and Arthur took a step forward, but before he could begin to talk, the hall erupted in impulsive shouts of 'Long Live The King', while people clapped at the sight of their handsome young ruler, his gold crown gleaming on his golden hair, and once more decked out in his customary armour and red cloak. Surely the rumours of his demise must have been exaggerated, since he looked as confident and athletic as he ever had; and if gossip were true, he'd been seen dancing in the town the previous day.

On the platform, Arthur surveyed the scene, judging the state of his people. They were certainly pleased to see him, but he sensed an undertone of relief beneath the cheers. Suddenly, he felt drained. Arthur had thought long and hard about wearing his chain-mail, since he doubted he would ever wear it again for its proper purpose. How long would he be able to maintain the facade that he was the strong leader of yesteryear? And how many in this hall would stay true to him if they suspected his weaknesses?

He had no fear of The Knights of The Round table; they would keep faith unto death, and the commoners, at least in the town of Camelot, seemed to love and trust him, but the nobles might be a different case entirely. Not all would desert him, he knew that for certain, but he also realised there were some self-seeking, prideful men amongst the nobility.

It was strange that the nobles, who should hold to the highest principals, by dint of their birth, were the ones he had least faith in. Over the next few days, he would definitely discover who would support him and who would choose to oppose him. This Grand Council might prove more than a useful tool to measure people's reaction to the return of magic; it might very well show up potential traitors.

Truly, Arthur had learned his lessons, and in a very hard school. Never again would he blindly follow his instincts to trust members of his family, nor ignore the fact that, on occasion, those whom he considered trustworthy could become deadly enemies. Though he had been arrogant and foolish to believe Mordred would choose himself over the girl he loved. If only he'd heeded Merlin sooner! 

From now on, he would think hard before making judgments, and listen to others' advice; those few in whom he had absolute faith. The small band of brothers, who had pledged their allegiance around the original version of the round table, had suffered sad losses, yet their group remained strong in spirit and they would take care of each other.

Slowly, he raised his hand for quiet, and like a well orchestrated company, the audience fell silent.

“Nobles of Albion, Knights of The Round Table and Citizens of Camelot, I welcome you to this my first Grand Council.” Arthur paused, his keen eyes gazing around the hall, capturing the attention of all. “The subject we will address, over the next few days, is of great importance to me, and to the future peace of my realm. It is a weighty and life-changing matter, which is why I have called you all, to learn your thoughts, opinions and feelings on the issue of magic and whether it should be returned to our kingdom.”

The moment The King finished talking, a chaos of words invaded the room, some loud, some whispered; some angry, a lot puzzled, but the most predominant... fearful. Clearly, those assembled had known something of the reasons why a Grand Council had been summoned, but hearing it from The King's own mouth had brought the reality of the proposed future crashing into their consciousness. 

The mood of the gathering threatened to escape Arthur's control, but he had learned the art of kingship well. Now he straightened his back, flexed his shoulders and raised both his arms.

“People of Albion!” 

The chattering went on, oblivious of The King's words. The trumpeters, standing by the back wall, in clear line of sight of Arthur, awaited his instructions. He nodded once, and, immediately, warning notes echoed over the heads of the crowd. Men and women looked around them, falling silent, searching for danger. The horns had sounded a battle call.

Arthur speedily spoke into the silence. “My people! My compatriots... my friends! I pray you listen to what I have to say.” Once more he waited, till he was satisfied he had their complete regard. “I look around me, and I see many familiar faces in this hall. There are, also, those I do not yet know, but I believe that all of you know me, or my reputation. There are many here, noblemen, knights and soldiers, with whom I have stood in the battle-line; men I have been honoured and proud to call my sword-brother. Each one of you knows I would never ask any of you to do something that I did not believe in with all my heart.

Together we have fought rival kingdoms, Saxons, magical beasts and sorcerers. Yet, at Camlann Pass, we had magic on our side, and that turned the course of the battle in our favour. For that fact alone, I think the fate of magic deserves to be reconsidered. Its return is not a fait accompli. You are here to discuss and argue your points of view, for or against.

So, for the love of Camelot, I ask not for your swords, this day, but for your open-minds and pure hearts to judge what is best for all who live within the Kingdom of Albion.” 

Again a deadly silence fell on the assembled crowd, till, in the middle of the throng a red-caped knight raised his hand and shouted clear and loud.

“For the love of Camelot!”

At once the hall rang with answering calls, while on the dais Leon and Percival joined in. The cries came not only from Arthur's fighting men, but from the town's folk who had crowded into the back of the hall. Indeed, even some nobles called out their support for The King, but Arthur and the friends who stood beside him were not fooled. They might have won the opening foray, but they would have a hard fight to win the war.

 

*****

The hall emptied, slowly, noisily, as people filed into the corridors and stairs, all the time discussing what they had heard. Nobles clumped into groups with those they assumed would agree with their sentiments, eager to seek support for their own point of view, deliberating how the return of magic would affect their futures and what they ought to do about it.

The few town's people inside the hall had waited dutifully for their betters to leave, while they, too, gossiped about the return of magic, little expecting their ideas would be taken into consideration.

Life for the common people had been better under Arthur; his taxes were not extortionate, and men and women were encouraged to make a decent living for themselves. Arthur and his knights had cleared the kingdom of bandits and raiders, so farmers didn't live in fear of having their harvests or livestock stolen, while merchants, from far and wide, traveled the roads safely, ensuring that trade flourished and gold filled Camelot's coffers.

Nowadays, there was little chance that anyone would be charged with sorcery by a spiteful, greedy neighbour. Sorcerers were still outlawed, but they received a fair trial before they were banished, or condemned to death for the very worst crimes. Even if that law did change, most ordinary men and women didn't see that as a huge problem. Though there was still a fear of evil sorcery, the older citizens of Camelot remembered the magic healers and the good they had done. 

The royal party, knowing they had let loose a whirlwind, retired to the state dining room, to allow the gale of argument to blow itself out. Yet all knew that was a forlorn hope. Since Camelot had been the target of Morgana and her allies for years, and, considering how many had died in the war against the Old Religion, the plan to legalize magic would meet with many objections.

As Arthur and Guinevere reached the doors, which the guards had opened, a voice called to them from down the passageway.

“Pendragon! You hound! So, you actually lived long enough to be crowned king?”

Immediately, Arthur whirled around, as did they all, Merlin and the knights placing themselves, defensively, in front of The King and Queen.

Yet, Arthur pushed them aside and strode toward the stranger. “Kay? By the heavens, where did you spring from? Last I heard, you were still in Armorica.”

The two men reached each other and Arthur grabbed the newcomer in a bear hug. “What are you doing here?” he asked, standing back to survey his friend's broad, smiling face. “I thought I recognised the voice back in the hall.”

The red-caped knight, who had shouted the first salute, replied as he knelt before Arthur. “I was in Londinium when I heard of the battle at Camlann, and I came to offer my support, though, for a short time, I believed I'd come too late. Word is out that you were killed.”

“As you can see, rumours of my death are untrue,” Arthur laughed. “Get up off your knees, Kay, and come meet my wife and my friends.”

Once inside the room, Arthur introduced the stocky, merry-faced man to the rest of the group. “Lord Kay was fostered in Camelot when we were both boys, and his father was killed in my father's service. We were like brothers, but his mother married a lord from across The Narrow Sea and Kay and I were separated.” It was obvious from Arthur's wistful demeanour that he'd regretted the loss of his friend. “I'd always hoped to see you again, Kay.”

“I would have come sooner, Arthur, but my mother fell ill, and as my stepfather had died a few years ago, I didn't want to leave her bereft. Our relations with my stepbrothers wasn't all that it should have been, and my mother was scorned by them. She needed me, and I'd heard that Camelot was strong and flourishing under her young lion. I came as soon as I could to join the famed Knights of The Round Table.”

A smile, as bright as the sun's rays, lit Arthur's face. “You are most welcome, Kay. We might have been parted by sea and land, but I have heard of your exploits. Camelot is in need of strong warriors.”

“And yet, isn't this a time of peace?” Kay asked, thoughtfully.

Guinevere stepped forward and stretched her hand out to her husband's erstwhile foster-brother. “Welcome, Lord Kay. It is a sad admission of human kind that, even in peace time, a kingdom needs strong supporters to ensure the peace holds.”

Kay accepted The Queen's hand and bowing over it, he gallantly placed a light kiss on Gwen's camel coloured skin. “Queen Guinevere, it seems the talk I heard of you is true, for you are as wise as you are beautiful.” He stood upright, grinning at the royal couple. “Arthur, you always were a lucky dog!” 

“And you always had a silver tongue. You have no idea how many times I was punished for this rogue's tricks, but everyone thought Kay was such a sweet boy. He could do no wrong!” Arthur's laughter proved he held no bad feelings against the young mischief maker.

“I remember it well,” Gaius announced, his old eyes gleaming at the thought of Arthur's bright boyhood. “I'm glad someone got the better of you, Sire. It was character building!”

Arthur groaned. “If being sent to bed without any supper was character building, or being forced to study borders and maps, or court protocol and treaties when the sun was high and all I wanted to do was hunt, then I should be a paragon of virtue...”

“Don't forget all the times you were made to muck out the stables!” Kay reminisced with a mischievous grin.

“You mucked out stables?” Merlin's eyes opened wide in shock.

“Close your mouth, Merlin, you look like a fish out of water!” Arthur ordered, squirming a little. “I know very well how to muck out stables. My father's Master of Horse believed when he taught a boy to ride, he taught him how to care for his mount, including mucking out its stall. I'll admit it wasn't my favourite task, and he caught me sleeping on the job once. For some time after that, cleaning the stables became my father's preferred method of punishing me, and this... this betrayer!” He pointed at Sir Kay, who was now grinning from ear to ear. “He made sure I became acquainted with the composition of hay and dung on a frequent basis.” 

“Don't complain, Arthur. You became the finest young horseman in the court through my... encouragement, and besides, I was carried away soon after.” At the latter admission, Kay's laughing face stilled and there was no denying the sorrow in his voice. “I missed you, my friend.”

A bleakness descended over Arthur's person. Clearly, the young Arthur had been devastated too. “And I you. We promised ourselves we'd always stand side-by-side, yet our families never considered our feelings when you were taken away, no matter how much we pleaded.”

Merlin and Gwen exchanged glances, their thoughts mirroring each other's. Had Arthur been parted from his closest friends often? Everyone assumed that the Prince of Camelot had led a privileged existence, but perhaps he had known a more unique kind of privation. If so, then it was no wonder he had held himself apart, shielding his innermost feelings, until Merlin, then Gwen had broken down the barriers.

“But I am here now, and I promise I will leave you only in death, My Lord!” Kay stated solemnly, kneeling again.

Yet Arthur stretched out his hand and gripped Kay's forearm, preventing him from prostrating himself. “Speak not of death! There has been enough of that in this kingdom in these last days. Welcome to The Knights of The Round Table, but live for me, Sir Kay, and I pray no other man nor woman has to die for me in the years to come.”

Kay's bright smile broke out once more. “I'm all for that, Arthur. Though I'm not sure how much freedom a king, or an old-married man, like yourself, can enjoy.” The laughter in Kay's manner extinguished any hurt which might be derived from his words.

Guinevere, certainly, took no offense. “Do not worry, Sir Kay. My husband finds his way to the hunting grounds and the tavern, in the company of his knights, on a fairly regular basis.”

The royal couple shared an understanding glance, and Kay, at once, realised that his friend had found his true love. “That's good to hear! I'm sure I'm going to fit right in as I enjoy a visit to the tavern myself, now and then.” His grin swept over the group around The King, before he grew serious again. “But, from what I hear, you have some difficult days ahead of you with this grand council thing. Tell me what I can do to help, and you have my pledge I will do whatever I can.”

“Do what you did in the hall,” Merlin injected coming forward. “Going by the lack of enthusiasm by many of the nobles, we could benefit from some cheer leading.”

“And some of the knights,” Leon added with some humility, he being one of those knights who weren't totally supportive of Arthur's plans. Yet he was loyal to The King and he hated being ranged against Arthur.

“You seemed to have the backing of the commoners,” Kay observed. There was a shrewd brain behind his merry countenance. “Couldn't you exploit that?”

“Arthur has always looked after the people, and they have rewarded him with their love,” Guinevere agreed, smiling on her husband.

“Unfortunately, the common people don't sit on the council,” Arthur shook his head, troubled. He had known the debate on magic would stir up a hornet's nest, he just hadn't imagined the size of the opposition.

“That might not be exactly the case,” a voice spoke from the doorway, and the group turned to see Lord Cedric and his wife at the entrance to the room. “Might we come in, Sire?”

“Please do Cedric. It seems this small group alone supports my proposals.” Arthur swept his arm around the room. “Any addition is more than welcome.”

“Thank you, Sire...”

“I thought we had established first name terms in private, at least. Please, let us all make ourselves comfortable to discuss our strategy for the council tomorrow.” 

Arthur headed for the top of the long table, since there was no room for the round one in all but the great hall and, for the moment, that was otherwise occupied, so the round table had been dismantled. He seated Gwen by his right hand, and motioned for Merlin to sit on his left. The others ranged themselves around the table, but Sir Leon remained by the door.

“Leon?” Arthur asked, noticing his foremost knight's hesitation. “Aren't you joining us?”

“Sire, knowing my thoughts on the reintroduction of magic, I thought perhaps you would not want me here.”

The King's fair eyebrows rose as he shook his head, wondering. “Why ever not? Leon, I might expect complete obedience from my knights and soldiers on the battle field or patrol, but this is a debate,” he emphasised the last word. “All opinions are valid here.”

“Besides, Leon,” Merlin's gamin grin lit up his face. “We might need your scepticism to curb our enthusiasm.”

“True, Merlin!” Arthur echoed his friend. “As long as you don't plan on running to the opposition to report on our meetings, you're place is here.”

Leon blanched. “Your Highness, I would rather fall on my sword than ever betray you, whether I disagree with you or not!”

“Do you think I don't know that?” Arthur asked, quietly, with humility. “Come, Leon, sit down. I was teasing, but the joke wasn't in the best of taste. Forgive me?”

“Sire, you don't need my forgiveness. You are The King” Nevertheless he came and sat at the table. 

“Since a king is head of state, I think he needs more forgiveness than most mortals,” Arthur remarked, and though he smiled, it was clear he meant every word. This was, indeed, The Once and Future King, whose name would echo down the centuries. 

Now that the problem of Leon was sorted, Merlin reverted to Cedric's declaration when he had entered the room. “Cedric, what did you mean when you suggested commoners could sit on a council?”

“Not a privy council. They have always been appointed from members of the nobility, but The Grand Council is different, if my memory serves me correctly.” When Cedric finished talking, he turned his glance across the table, to Geoffrey and Gaius, who were sitting next to each other.

Gaius frowned, while Geoffrey stroked his beard, searching his vast knowledge of ancient protocols. Finally, he spoke, a faint smile on his face. “You know, you are right, Cedric. I would have to check the annals to be sure, because it was so long ago. But after Bruta and his contemporary chiefs divided the land between them, he called the first Grand Council of Camelot, to inform his people what had been agreed. The nobles and knights were summoned, but he also called a representative of every town and village, to make sure that all his people, from the highest to the lowest, knew in which kingdom they were located, to whom they owed allegiance and revenue, and who they could look to for succour.”

“And that law still stands?” Arthur leaned his elbows on the table, ready to grasp at every straw.

Again Geoffrey pondered before he answered, while The King noticeably fretted. Guinevere placed her hand over Arthur's clenched one.

“It is not exactly a law,” Geoffrey replied, only to see King Arthur's eagerness fade at his words. “However, since there is a precedence, particularly one laid down by Bruta, and no king since has sought to contradict his actions in law, then I see no reason why you should not emulate the great founder of our nation.”

Arthur hit the table with the flat of his hand. “Then the word has to go out immediately,” he commanded. “Leon, Percival, see to it that messengers... no make that patrols go to every village and homestead in the country to escort the headman to Camelot. If others wish to attend, then so be it. We will cross the bridge of whether they are legal or not when they arrive. You have my orders to let no one stand in your way. I will not have them delayed. The business part of the council starts tomorrow at noon.”

“But, Arthur, there are the citizens of Camelot,” Merlin added, sharing his friend's fervour. “The city is divided into districts. In ratio to the number of people who dwell in the city, surely they should have more representatives.”

Again, Geoffrey nodded. “I think that would be acceptable. Sire, if you do not need me for anything more, perhaps I should search the archives for written confirmation of the make up of a grand council.”

“Of course. Good luck with your research.” And as his Grand Seneschal rose to go, he waved him away. “Written corroboration will surely silence our opponents.”

“In that case, two pairs of eyes are better than one,” Gaius said, also moving toward the door. “Never fear, Arthur. We won't let you down. You shall have your proof.”

Kay stood, bowing to The King. “I know I have only arrived, and we have much to catch up on, but I understand this subject is dear to your heart, Arthur, so let me lead one of your patrols. I think I can still find my way around Albion, at least in the areas closer to the city.”

“Thank you, Kay,” Arthur bobbed his head in return. “We are short on commanders, and we have patrols already occupied in another important undertaking. Camelot's army is much depleted, so your help is appreciated.”

“Arthur, might I also make a suggestion?” Iseldir requested in his quiet way.

Arthur sat back, inviting the Druid to speak. “I'm open to any ideas which might help us.”

“I have ways of contacting my people throughout your land, though you would consider it a magical connection...”

“Mind speech?” Merlin asked.

“Yes.”

“Iseldir, we are talking of legalising magic, and though that might not have happened as yet, I think we cannot charge you with crimes we do not see,” Arthur said, again smiling.

“And the leaders of Druid clans would be accepted at this Grand Council?”

Arthur considered the question, then answered. “As long as they dwell within Albion's borders, and they are not practising magic, I don't see why not.”

“And in Bruta's time, magic was not illegal, so who is to say that Druids didn't attend that first Grand Council,” Merlin announced, rubbing his hands together. They were assembling a greater number of supporters than they'd thought possible. Of course, there was always the possibility that not every head villager would side with them, but Arthur's star was riding high with the commoners of Albion, and he had a feeling they would agree with almost anything Arthur proposed.

“Then I will take my leave of you, Sire,” Iseldir said, bowing slightly. “Fear not. You will have the backing of my people, and they can travel with great haste when the need arises.”

Within minutes the dining room had emptied, leaving the royal couple with Merlin and their new friends Cedric and Amena.

“Perhaps some wine would be in order?” Guinevere looked toward her husband, anxious that he not overtax himself. “And a light repast. It is sometime before dinner, and maybe we can speak of less weighty matters for a spell.”

“Guinevere...”

But already Merlin was interrupting. “I think that is an excellent idea. A little light relief will do us all the world of good. And you have to take your remedy, Arthur, and have a rest before tonight. We'll all have to keep our wits about us during dinner.”

“There speaks a sensible man,” said Amena, ignoring the wilful set of Arthur's jaw as he glared at his physician. “I often find the answer to a problem presents itself to me if I turn my mind to other preoccupations. I think it's a case of not seeing the forest for the trees.”

The harsh scrape of a chair was the first warning of Arthur rising. “I'm sure you're right, if we were dealing with a normal problem, Lady Amena.” He swept his cloak behind him. “But this... this dispute could divide the kingdom. And frankly, I'm a little tired of everyone telling me to take things easy!” And with that he marched swiftly from the room.

Guinevere's hand flew to her mouth, as her skin paled. If she were honest, she'd been expecting her husband to react badly long before this, yet he had erupted so suddenly she was taken unawares, and the bitter edge in his voice shocked her to the core.

“Lady Amena, please accept my apologies. Arthur always takes the responsibility of Camelot to heart. He's extremely worried... but he should not have been so rude.”

“Don't apologise, my dear,” the older woman reassured The Queen. “No offence was taken. Duty weighs heavily on a king who cares for his people, and besides, I do not think he is completely recovered from his injuries.”

“No, he isn't,” Gwen admitted slowly, glancing at Merlin, wondering how much of the truth could be divulged to this, admittedly, kind couple, yet people they had just met.

“It is only days since Arthur was gravely wounded,” Merlin stepped in to help his queen. “Such wounds take a long time to mend...”

Guinevere quickly followed Merlin's lead. “And you know what these warrior types are like! They make the worst of patients.”

“Not just warriors,” Cedric agreed, lightening the conversation. “Amena isn't always patient with her own failing health. Why don't you and Merlin go after Arthur. We will retire to our chambers to rest. And Guinevere, will you tell Arthur that both Amena and I knew his mother and were very fond of her. If there is anything he would like to learn about her, we are at his service at any time.”

Sobs threatened to choke Gwen at Cedric's kind words. It had clearly been the couple's intention to speak to Arthur of his mother. He'd thrown a childish tantrum and missed out on the very thing he would have wanted to hear.

She was almost convinced to punish him a little, but then she remembered the bleak look which had shadowed his eyes, sporadically, over the last couple of days, though he'd kept it carefully hidden, and her heart broke again for him.

Watching, Merlin read Gwen's thoughts, so clearly written on her face. “Come, Gwen. Let us go beard the lion in his den. He is such a clotpole!”

He too had guessed it would only be a matter of time before Arthur reacted thus, but he also knew the strength of The King's resolve to see his kingdom triumph. For Albion's sake, Arthur would rise above his frustrations.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I'm not quite sure of the protocol on this site, I'm not sure if it's common practise to reply to comments, as I've noticed my own comments are then counted. It's not that I don't appreciate comments, because believe me, I really really do.
> 
> I'd like to thank everyone who has left a comment, and I'm especially grateful to those who have left more than one, as it shows you're still following my story.
> 
> I'd also like to thank all the guests who have left kudos. I am so happy you're doing so. You also let me know that people are reading and enjoying my writing.


	11. Surprising Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guinevere is understanding, but Merlin reads Arthur a homily and someone ruins the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, three days have passed, so I'm posting my next chapter.
> 
> I don't own Merlin, I've only borrowed the characters from the TV show for my own pleasure and I hope my readers' enjoyment too.

Chapter Eleven  
Surprising Visitors

Gwen and Merlin pushed the door open quietly and glanced in. Slumped in his chair at his desk, Arthur rested his head on the surface, which was covered with parchment... letters, decrees and treaties; the everyday paraphernalia of running a great kingdom.

Behind him, the late afternoon sun streamed through the window, glancing off his blonde hair, shining like the halo of a fallen angel.

The two walked slowly into the room, saying nothing. Perhaps he had fallen asleep; he had, after all, been under great strain this day.

But without lifting his head, he said in little above a whisper, “Please don't scold. I know I was extremely rude to Lady Amena, and I will apologise later...”

Always ready to support her husband, Guinevere interjected. “You are tired, Arthur, and Amena understands, as does Cedric...”

“No, Guinevere! Don't excuse my bad manners.” Arthur had lifted his head, and though his skin was pale, his blue eyes blazed. “And I don't feel tired... or not necessarily in the way you mean. I'm tired of being treated with kid gloves, like I really was an invalid.”

“Arthur...”

“Don't! Not you too, Merlin,” Arthur said, cutting across whatever his friend intended to say. He slouched in his chair, his head lolling backwards to study the ceiling. “I understand I am an... invalid.” That word was ground out between his teeth. “I don't like it, but I'm sure in time I'll learn to live with that fact.” He sat upright, his back ramrod straight, and faced Guinevere and Merlin. “But please, you should not pardon my childish outbursts when I lose my temper because of it.”

“I wasn't going to,” Merlin explained, crossing the room and making himself comfortable on the settle by the end of the bed. Obviously, Merlin was becoming used to his new position. “In your temper tantrum, you hit out at a completely innocent and elderly lady, who was about to share some reminiscences of your mother with you. Now, I'm assuming you would have loved that, but you missed out because of your bad behaviour!”

Arthur groaned aloud and knocked his head against the desk's surface again. “You know I would have loved that,” he said, his muffled voice bitter-sweet.

“Then you'll be glad to know the lady bears you no ill will and is ready to have that conversation when you are ready,” Merlin replied, but not too kindly. Arthur did not need coddling at this moment. “You don't deserve her kindness, but she seems to like you, though I have no idea why!”

“Merlin!” Gwen admonished the one time servant. “Arthur isn't that bad.”

“Yes, I am!” The King stood sharply, but for a moment, he held fast to the desk to steady himself. “At least in this case. Lord and Lady Walton are trying to help us, and I risked antagonizing them. I... we can't afford to lose their support.”

“And you haven't, Arthur.” This from Guinevere, who came quickly across the room to give her husband a well-needed hug. 

For a few moments, he buried his face in her sweet-scented curls. Then, raising his head, he stared into her eyes. “I don't deserve your kindness.” His hand traced the contours of her cheek, his fingers softly touching her lips. “I'm very probably going to turn into a melancholy, grouchy old man; old before my time.”

“My sweet, never think it...”

“Gwen, I'm not sure I can cope with this...” He swept his hand down his body, hovering over the scar where Mordred had stabbed him. “Perhaps it would have been better if I'd died.”

“Do not say so!” Gwen reached up and stopped his words with her lips, her kiss lingering until she felt his mouth open under hers.

In the background, Merlin paled. Arthur's reaction was exactly what Kilgarrah and he had feared, but Arthur was needed, injured or whole, he was the king the people looked to. Only he could bring the dissenting nobles round and unite the kingdom. But it was to be expected that he would doubt his capabilities along the way, and it was Gwen's and his job to lend Arthur their strength when his own faltered.

Merlin rose and walked towards the couple. “So, this is the gratitude you show for Kilgarrah's sacrifice?” He spoke harshly, though internally, he shed tears. “He gave all he had to keep you alive because he believed that you, and only you, could reunite Albion and bring magic back to the land. He didn't expect it to be easy for you. In fact, he wondered if you would thank him for your life, such as it is.”

The King and Queen stared at their friend, Arthur's eyes stony while Gwen's burned with a protective glow.

Merlin returned their glares, his stature commanding. “In the end, Kilgarrah had faith you would fight with all your remaining vigour for your people and your land, which you have always placed far above your own needs. Was he wrong? Was I wrong to plead for your life?”

“Merlin, what is wrong with you?” Gwen asked, mystified and hurt that her friend should attack the man she loved with all her heart. “How can you suggest such a thing when Arthur is... suffering?”

Arthur's arm tightened around his wife's waist, but he gave the ghost of a smile. “Hush, sweetheart. Merlin has every right to remind me what is at stake when I'm acting like a self-suffering... prat... clotpole? Take your pick, Merlin. I deserve your scorn.”

At this Merlin came forward and hugged both his friends... not The King and Queen of Camelot. “Arthur, I promise you I will never scorn you. I might be impatient or even angry sometimes, but you have been and always will be my closest friend, who perhaps needs a little reminding, now and then, that he isn't a useless... cabbage-head.”

Arthur laughed aloud, his dejection lifting somewhat, though he was wise enough to know that this faint cloud of depression would haunt his soul from this day forward. He was thankful he had loved ones who would help him through the darker times... and he would endure.

Merlin had the truth of it. Arthur would always rise to the protection of Albion and those who lived within its boundaries.

“How long have we got before dinner time?” he asked Gwen. “Do I have time to repair bridges with Amena and Cedric?”

“I believe so.” The Queen smiled as she replied. “I'll send the guards to ask them to attend you.”

Raising his eyebrows, Arthur fought down a frisson of annoyance, knowing Guinevere was only thinking of his health. It might frustrate him, but he understood her motives. “Guinevere! I'm the one at fault here, so I think I'm fit enough to go to them.” He offered her his hand. “Will you accompany me? Oh, and perhaps you could instruct Geoffrey to rearrange the top table for dinner tonight to accommodate Amena and Cedric.”

“I think that's an excellent idea.” Her smiled widened as she took his hand and they left the chamber. Seconds later, Arthur's voice floated back into the room from the corridor. “Merlin, are you coming, or do you have somewhere else to be?”

 

*****

 

So many nobles had answered Arthur's summons that the state dining room wasn't large enough to cope with the numbers attending the celebratory banquet, causing older, seldom aired rooms to be brought back into use. Myriad servants, helped by guards, swept and dusted cobwebs away, while others scurried about the lower regions of the castle, searching out boards, trestles and enough chairs and benches to cater for all those who were invited to dine, particularly because the royal couple didn't want to leave out the common people. 

Neither Arthur nor Gwen, however, were foolish enough to mix the two classes at this point, not wanting to subject the ordinary folk to some of the haughtier grandees' disdain. All of which led to a hectic time in the citadel, but, finally, the arrangements came together, thanks to Guinevere's organizational skills and the dedication of her staff, led by the stuffy but competent George.

Much to his surprise, Arthur found himself enjoying the dinner; his appetite was returning, and with Guinevere and Merlin at his side, he took pleasure in the company of old and new friends. 

Earlier, Amena and Cedric had chased his melancholy mood away with tails of Ygraine and a happier, more tolerant Uther. From the time he'd been old enough to notice, Arthur had felt a deep sorrow at being deprived of his mother's love, but, after asking his father a number of times about his mother and being totally rebuffed, he'd learned to keep his thoughts to himself.

So now, he hoarded the stories the elderly Lord and Lady recounted. He learned his father had indeed loved his mother very deeply and had suffered grievously at her death, leaving Arthur feeling even more mystified by what had prompted Uther to make such a chancy bargain to gain an heir. 

His own marriage had not yet been blessed by children, and he knew rumours of a barren queen were whispered behind his back, but he would never risk Guinevere's life for any reason, nor would he put her away and remarry a princess, as had been mooted by some of his more mercenary councillors.

He loved Guinevere with all his heart, and if fate didn't grant them the gift of children, then he'd be content to remain childless... Yet he knew Guinevere fretted.

But tonight was a time for thanksgiving. Camelot's army, with the help of Merlin, had chased away the Saxon threat for some time, hopefully, and Morgana was gone, though only the gods knew where. All the inhabitants of the kingdom were safer now than they had been for many years. The sense of relief and freedom was heady, and Arthur was as drunk on it as any of his subjects.

With the dinner over, he suggested his entourage visit the courtyard where the rest of Camelot's citizens were enjoying free food and drink. The night air was slightly chilly and the group donned their cloaks, before making their way outside to watch as the towns' folk ate and drank, and sang and danced away the dark hours. There was no doubt in any of the royal party's minds that commoners understood how best to celebrate.

Merlin felt a sudden rush of sadness as he remembered one of Camelot's foremost carousers, the irrepressible Sir Gwaine. How he would have loved this night! Glancing at his king, he saw the same despair mirrored in Arthur's eyes. Yet Gwaine wouldn't wish them to grieve over much for him. He would rather they lifted a tankard of ale in his memory, and with that thought in mind, Merlin descended the stairs and asked one of the servants to fetch a jug of ale and beakers.

It was while he was watching the man thread his way through the crowds to the barrels that a wave of foreboding overcame him. It slammed into him with the strength of a lightening bolt. Merlin's knees buckled, and he grasped desperately at the tall statue of one of Arthur's ancestors, astride his horse, in full battle regalia.

“Merlin!” 

He heard Arthur's warning shout and knew succour was at hand, but his voice froze in his throat as his gaze travelled this way and that through the throng to the archway of the quadrangle. What or who he saw there, chilled him to his bones. How could this be? It wasn't possible!

“Merlin?” This time, Arthur spoke close by his ear, and he felt his sovereign's arms struggle to lift him up.

Arthur was the first to reach Merlin, but Leon was close on his heels.

“Please, Sire, let me?” Leon took Merlin's weight, but Arthur didn't let go.

“What's wrong?” The tone of Arthur's voice betrayed his anxiety. Had he too shared Merlin's feeling of misgiving?

But time did not stand still, and over by the entrance way it was clear some kind of altercation was unfolding. The guards were gathering around a slender figure who was intent on making its way into the citadel. The noise from the revellers was over loud to hear what was being said, but it was obvious the sentries were intent on restraining the woman... for a woman it was.

Merlin sensed her with his mind's eye and as a gap opened in the crowd for a few moments, Arthur saw her.

In unison they spoke...

“Morgana?”

*****

Inside Arthur and Gwen's chambers, The King paced the floor, his hands fisted and his teeth biting into his lower lip, almost bringing blood. 

“How is this possible?” He asked to the room in general. “I saw Merlin stab her with Excalibur. She died! I know she did!”

Guinevere hovered, looking as if she wished to follow in his footsteps, but knowing he would find her concern oppressive. Besides, she had no answers to give.

The only person brave enough, by dint of his age, spoke up. “Arthur, no one knows the answer to your question, but if you will have patience, Merlin, Leon and Percival will bring her here and perhaps we will learn the truth.” It was the only advice Gaius had to offer.

The moment it had been established the woman demanding to enter the citadel was Morgana, or a very close reproduction of her, Leon and Percival had been sent to restrain her physically, while Merlin would take care of her magic powers, and in this, Iseldir had volunteered to help.

Arthur had instructed them to bring Morgana, if it really were she, to his private chambers by the underground passageways, since the castle was overflowing and he didn't want the knowledge that the High Priestess might still be alive to become public. Then he, Gwen and Gaius had hurried inside to await the confrontation.

Lord and Lady Walton had sensed some mystery was unfolding, and with discretion, which seemed so characteristic of them, they had retired to their room.

“Arthur, we don't know that it was Morgana,” Gwen said soothingly. “It was dark, and crowded... and we only caught a glimpse. Perhaps it was just someone who looked like her.”

Turning on his wife, Arthur pointed a finger. “No! You saw how Merlin reacted. That was no ordinary woman.” He spoke roughly, then realising he was poking his finger in his wife's face, he drew back. “Sorry! I didn't mean to... Sorry!” Then he was off pacing again. “Why are they taking so long?”

But Guinevere had no fear of her husband, and she caught his arm as he passed her. “Arthur, stop! You ordered them to bring her here privately, which means they have to use the tunnels, then try to navigate the public corridors discreetly. There are still lots of people milling about, so that won't be easy. As Gaius has already told you, you must be patient.”

Arthur stared defiantly for a few seconds before the fight went out of him. This night was not ending as he expected... as anyone expected, and Guinevere must be as upset as he, plus she was worried about his health. That latter fact might dismay him, but he knew her anxiety was born of love. Besides, he had to stop hitting out at others for his own failings.

“You're right! But you know patience was never one of my best qualities.” He smiled contritely and let her lead him to his chair. There was a few moments of silence, till Arthur asked, “Why is she here? Alone? Has she an army out there, just waiting to attack us again?” 

“I doubt that, Sire.” Gaius also sat down, his joints were aching and he was as anxious as the young couple, but he would lend them his council as long as he had breath to do so. “You've doubled the patrols and the guards, as had Leon before you returned, plus the escorts who are riding to the towns and villages. I'm sure they would have sent back messages if they had discovered an enemy war band. If this is Morgana, she seems to be on her own.”

“Gaius, is it possible she could have an invisible army with her?” Guinevere gave a derisive gasp at her crazy question, yet she knew how powerful Morgana was. Hadn't she fallen under her enchantments a number of times? 

Morgana, her one time friend had turned her into a doe, so that Arthur would kill her in the hunt... and there had been the tower, with those horrendous roots... and the screaming. The things she had been made to do. No! That wasn't right; that was a nightmare, wasn't it? Gwen's nerves were stretched so tightly, it was difficult to tell what was real and what was fantasy when it came to Morgana.

“Gwen, I doubt that even a High Priestess could hold a spell so powerful to hide an army for any length of time.” Gaius fervently hoped that were true.

There was a noise from the corridor outside and Leon could be heard commanding the guards to prevent anyone from entering the chambers. Then the door opened and five people entered the room, the one in the centre heavily cloaked. 

The figure drew nearer, pushing off her hood, then, suddenly, she was throwing herself at Arthur. Everyone moved to intercept, but they were too shocked and Morgana was too fast.

“Arthur, oh thank god! I was so scared.” Her dark eyes shining stark between the tumbled black tresses of her hair. “I was kidnapped by this terrible man... a sorcerer, I think. Thank goodness I've found my way home.” She collapsed by his side and laid her head in his lap, sobbing helplessly.

Arthur sat there like a rock. His first instinct to comfort his sister died quickly, replaced by distrust. What game was Morgana playing this time? His eyes went straight to Merlin, silently questioning.

Slowly, Morgana became aware of her brother's awkwardness. She raised her head, her skin paler than death.

“Arthur, what has happened. Where is Uther?”

No one answered. No one knew how to answer.

Morgana's glance strayed over the others in the room, her eyes widening when she noticed Gwen, but she said nothing as her gaze continued to Merlin. In the light of the many candles, she appeared disconcerted by their changed apparel. 

But she chose to ignore her discovery, and standing, she swung back to her brother, while her hands gripped his arms. “Arthur! Tell me! What has happened to Uther?”

Sir Leon stepped close behind her, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Unhand The King!” His voice cut like a knife, though he did not draw steel.

Her thin fingers withdrew, like a feral cat sheathing its claws. “King? You are King?” Once more she stared at each occupant of the room. “King Arthur?”

“My father died, Morgana.” Arthur forced the words out. “Though I'm sure you know that very well.”

Morgana backed away. “No. No!” Her voice was a whisper, yet everyone could hear. “How could I know? I was taken!”

Gaius walked forward. “You would know, Morgana, because you were instrumental in his death.” His voice was colder than the ice of the North lands.

Yet these words caused Arthur to frown as well as Morgana. “Odin had my father killed,” Arthur stated. “Actually, he sent an assassin to kill me, and my father sacrificed his life for mine.”

“And you couldn't save him, Gaius?” Morgana asked, her whole bearing woeful.

“Nothing could be done,” he replied. “The knife had reached his heart.”

Arthur continued to frown, looking at Merlin... remembering. “I even asked a sorcerer to help... yet he died anyway.”

“A sorcerer? For Uther?” Morgana straightened her shoulders, her chin lifted. Once more she was the haughty ward of Camelot, despite her shabby clothes. “Arthur, what were you thinking, letting someone with magic near your father? The sorcerer killed Uther.”

“Sorcery did kill Uther,” Merlin agreed with Morgana, though his honest stare never left Arthur. “But Dragoon was not to blame. Another's hand had placed a pendant around Uther's neck; a pendant bound to the dark side by your enchantment, Morgana. However strong the healing spell Dragoon cast, its effect had the opposite result. You and Agravaine made sure The King would die.”

Morgana's skin was naturally pale, but at these words she turned ghostly. “What are you talking about? I've not seen nor spoken with Agravaine since I was a child.” She looked down at Arthur to see his jaw set firm and his lips narrowed. “You can't believe such slander.” She stretched an appealing hand out to her brother. “Arthur, I fear Merlin is no longer a friend to us. Arrest him!”

At last Arthur rose, though he felt his legs tremble beneath him. “Morgana, Merlin is my friend, a closer friend than I ever knew. It is you who is the enemy...”

“That's not true!” Morgana cast herself upon Arthur's chest once more. “You're like a brother to me. You're my family. How could I ever betray you or Uther?” When Arthur remained unmoved, she turned to Guinevere. “Gwen, help me, please. You were always more than my servant. You must know I would never hurt you... any of you.” 

Standing unnoticed on the edge of the group, Guinevere had scarcely breathed, as panic seethed in her stomach. “How can I believe that when you contrived to have me burnt as a sorcerer? You say you were kidnapped, yet you abducted me! My brother died because of you...” Guinevere's hand covered her mouth, while her eyes flew to her husband. “Arthur, Elyan died in that tower. He died trying to rescue me.”

Arthur was by Gwen's side in seconds, his hands sliding around her waist.

“But it was supposed to be you!” she cried, her voice rising in hysteria. “I was the bait.”

Pulling her closer into his arms, Arthur tried to comfort his wife. “I know, sweetheart. It was another one of Morgana's plots...”

“But, Arthur, you don't understand,” Guinevere wept inconsolably. “I... I think I wanted it to be... you.” And at that terrible admission, she fainted directly into Arthur's embrace.

Merlin and Gaius rushed to take Gwen from Arthur, who allowed them to carry her to the bed, though he followed close behind.

“What's wrong with her?” he asked, chafing her hands which felt so cold.

“The Queen is over-wrought, Sire.” Gaius, as ever, remained outwardly calm. “These past few days have taken their toll on her constitution, and now... Morgana's return has proved too much of a shock. She has merely fainted She'll recover soon.” Except, the physician didn't totally believe his own diagnosis. He was afraid Gwen was regaining her memory.

“Queen?” Morgana said, walking towards the group by the bed, though shadowed by Leon and Percival. “So you had the courage to marry Gwen after all. That's wonderful news. I'm so happy for you both.” A delighted smile warmed Morgana's face.

As Arthur sat by his wife's side, he frowned at this stranger, who claimed to be Morgana. For the life of him, he couldn't fathom her out, yet he prayed Merlin could keep them all safe from her enchantments.

Indeed, Merlin moved between the royal couple and the witch. “What game are you playing now, Morgana?” His stance was that of the powerful warlock above Camlann plain, though his visage was his own; a young man much saddened, yet not bowed down by all he had witnessed. “Have you not caused enough death and destruction to last all our lifetimes? Be gone from here, Morgana. I will not allow you to harm another soul.”

From the shadows, Iseldir came to support Emrys. “Nor I. I may not have your powers, High Priestess, but I stand with Merlin and Arthur, and all that Camelot will become.”

“As do I,” Percival said, circling around behind Morgana.

“And I,” Sir Leon agreed. Though he wasn't yet convinced of Arthur's vision for the future, there was one thing he could be sure of; he would back Arthur against Morgana Pendragon any day.

Lady Morgana's confused stare rested on each of her accusers in turn, yet she remained perfectly still, afraid to move lest she be attacked. “Why are you doing this?” she asked, panic rising in her voice. “Why would any of you bear false witness against me? You are my friends... my family!”

“Not any longer. Whether you are pretending, or really have lost your memory,” Arthur intoned, his voice jaded. “The fact remains that you did commit every crime we've mentioned... and so many more.”

“No, not me! Perhaps someone who resembled me. Yes, that must be it!” Morgana warmed to her theory. “Morgause created a copy of me. Perhaps she was the one who had me kidnapped, and she left a changeling in my place.”

“There is no evidence to corroborate your speculation,” Merlin spoke out against her, once again. “Over the last few years, we have all suffered at your hands.”

“You are guilty, Morgana. There is nothing you can say or do that can excuse your crimes.” Arthur endorsed Merlin's words.

“That can't be so. I would remember!” Morgana stepped back, only to come into contact with Percival's large, immovable frame. Like a scalded cat, she retreated from him. “I would remember,” she repeated, but whether with conviction, or simply wishing it to be so, the others in the room could not be sure. “I have committed no crimes!”

“Yet you are known to the Druids as a High Priestess of The Old Religion; a High Priestess who has wielded her powers unjustly and unmercifully,” Iseldir explained, trying to maintain his patience “Like you my people have magic, but we cannot condone how you chose to use your gifts. You have fallen far from grace.”

Morgana regarded the Druid with disgust, yet she wrung her hands together. “Arthur, who is this old rogue, and why would you believe him over your own foster sister? Didn't we grow up together? You, of all people, must recognise I am being incriminated...”

“Enough, Morgana!” Arthur's barked command was that of a war lord on a battlefield, causing Morgana to cringe. “I know they do not bear false witness because I have seen with my own eyes the atrocities you have committed.”

“You are mad! All of you,” Morgana declared, though her eyes darted around as though seeking an escape. 

“No,” Arthur answered, weariness seeping into every muscle, sinew and bone of his body. “I suspect you might be the only mad person within this room. Take her away; I can no longer look upon her.”

Suddenly, Morgana slumped, looking like a forlorn child. “But where will I go?” she asked in a small voice. “Camelot is my home.”

“Camelot has not been your home for a very long time,” Arthur said, rising again to face her. “You only want to destroy everything that is good about this kingdom. We've stopped you before, and we will do so again.” The King stared silently, for a long moment, at the half-sister he had once loved without condition before taking a deep breath. “Yet I'd rather keep you here where I can see what you are up to. Leon, Percival, escort Lady Morgana to the cells.” But even now, he could not bring himself to treat her callously. “Make sure she is comfortable and treated with common courtesy. I will not sink to her level.”

“Arthur, please! Don't do this,” Morgana begged, and though her voice was shrill, it was not maniacal. “You can't!”

“But I can, Morgana, and you have only yourself to blame,” The King said with little rancour, waving his hand in dismissal.

Both Leon and Percival bowed their heads, then placing their hands on Morgana's shoulders, they led her from the room.

Once more, Iseldir approached Arthur. “Sire, I believe I should accompany them. I have magic enough to ensure Morgana's prison is, at least, secure from counter spells.”

“Thank you, Iseldir. I am in your debt.” Arthur nodded tiredly to the Druid who hurried after the knights. 

When the door closed, Arthur could still hear Morgana calling his name, though the sound faded as she was marched farther away. He gulped and found he was fighting tears. He must be weaker than he'd thought. Wearily, he turned to Merlin and Gaius. “What in heaven's name was that all about? Is that really Morgana come back to life... and, if so, has she lost her wits, or have we?”

“Sire, perhaps we could leave the questions till tomorrow,” Gaius suggested, though, truth be told, he wasn't sure he knew any answers. “We are all exhausted, and we have to bring Guinevere round.”

“You said she would be fine.” Now worry for his wife sharpened Arthur's words.

“And she will. Merlin, can you pass me my medicine bag, please?” Merlin did as he was bid, and within moments Gaius held a pungent smelling vial beneath Gwen's nose.

Almost immediately, Gwen stirred and tried to sit up. She uttered a stifled groan, and Arthur was quickly sitting by her side once more.

“Lie still, Gwen,” Gaius advised. “You fainted, and you might still feel dizzy.”

But The Queen paid no heed, her dark eyes searched the room before coming to rest on her husband. “Morgana was here?” she asked, clasping his hand as if he were her only anchor in the tempest. “It wasn't a dream?”

With his free hand, Arthur smoothed Guinevere's hair where it had come undone. “I'm afraid not. Though I'm sure we all think we're reliving a nightmare. I know I do.”

“Nightmare? I have nightmares,” Gwen confessed lifelessly, glancing at the three anxious people about her.

“That's not surprising, my dear.” Once again, Gaius tried to console and misdirect. “We have all been through a great trauma.” He touched the side of Gwen's neck, checking her pulse, then lifted her chin as he stared into her eyes. “You don't have a fever, your pupils are clear and your pulse is strong. As your physician, I recommend a good night's sleep. Let me give you a sleeping draught. It will keep your bad dreams at bay.”

“And my waking nightmares?” Uncharacteristically, Gwen sounded somewhat sarcastic.

“The product of a tired and anxious mind, Gwen.” Gaius rummaged through his bag again and produced another of his glass bottles filled with a golden liquid, but Guinevere looked at Arthur before accepting it.

“What is it?” Arthur asked his physician.

“Only an infusion of valerian; enough to induce sleep, but not enough to harm,” Gaius explained. “Perhaps you would like some yourself, Sire.”

“I think I take enough when I have to swallow Merlin's concoction twice a day, and yes, before you ask, Merlin, I took it before the banquet.”

The trio watched as Gwen swallowed the potion.

“Would you like me to send for Gwen's serving girl?” Merlin asked, backing away from the bed as The Queen's eyelids began to droop.

Arthur rose, but stayed close by Gwen's side. “No, that won't be necessary. I know you think I'm totally hopeless, but I have undressed my wife before.”

Merlin's eyebrows raised, while Gaius gave a little laugh, which he quickly bit off at Gwen's startled comment.

“Arthur!”

Arthur had the grace to blush, but he didn't back down. “Good grief, we've been married for years. Don't you think I've learned a thing or two about women's apparel in that time?”

A smirk twitched Merlin's lips. “Obviously you have hidden talents, but I don't think Gaius nor I need to know the details.”

“Good, that's settled.” Arthur led them away from the bed, as Guinevere sat rather unsteadily on the edge. “I'll be with you in a moment, sweetheart. Don't do anything,” he instructed, as he watched his wife already start to sway. “I'll bid you goodnight, Gaius. Merlin, could you check in with Iseldir to make sure Morgana is still in custody?”

“Did you read my mind?” Merlin asked with a touch of humour. “Then I'll await you in my chamber. I'm assuming you'll want to talk just as soon as you have Guinevere settled.”

“Clearly you read mine!” Arthur came back, just as audaciously.

“Sire, I'm not sure that's such a good idea,” Gaius interrupted. “You also need to rest. The Grand Council starts tomorrow in earnest.”

“I'm sorry, Gaius, I haven't forgotten, but do you really think I could sleep, knowing Morgana has returned from the dead. We need to learn what her agenda might be.”

“I understand,” Gaius said, resigned. “Just try not to stay up all night... either of you. Even kings and warlocks need to sleep.” And with that final instruction, and a pointed look at Merlin, he hobbled slowly away. He was getting too old for all this intrigue. 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the return of Morgana, particularly one reviewer who wondered if Morgana was still alive a number of chapters ago. I didn't want to portray Morgana as the power-crazed High Priestess she became, so I'm hoping you'll like what I've done with her character. But is she or is she not acting?


	12. Conversations In The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter where Arthur hears a few explanations and an adversary reveals part of his plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Merlin, but I have borrowed the characters to play with. I have, though, added a few characters of my own.

Chapter Twelve  
Conversations In The Night

The castle had settled down for the night when Arthur opened Merlin's door and slipped inside. He found his friend seated by a small fire with another comfortable chair opposite him, just waiting for Arthur.

Merlin lifted a jug of wine. “I'm sorry it's watered, but I felt we should keep our minds as clear as possible.”

“Fine by me,” Arthur offered, sitting down and stretching his booted feet toward the fire. “Is Morgana still under guard?” he asked, quickly getting to the point.

“Yes, and Iseldir cast a spell which has removed her magic. It won't last forever, but it should keep her out of commission for a day or so, then the spell can be recast.” Merlin, not standing on ceremony, unclasped the braided neck of his robe and removed his boots, flexing his toes in his thick woolen socks.

Not to be outdone, Arthur followed suit, the better to heat his cold feet. “You did that once before, didn't you?”

“What? Take off my boots? Arthur, I do that on a regular basis!”

Arthur pointed an imperious finger at Merlin. “Don't play the fool. You know what I mean. When Morgana and Helios occupied Camelot; she tried to destroy us by casting a spell, and she was as shocked as I was when nothing happened. That was your doing?”

“It was!” Merlin grinned, tapping the side of his nose. “But don't expect me to tell you how, because I'm not giving away all my secrets.”

“Don't worry. You can retain your mystery. I probably wouldn't understand your methods anyway.”

Merlin looked pensive for a few seconds, then he grinned. “Oh, I don't know, Arthur. You were born of magic, so perhaps you have some latent magic gifts you just don't know about.”

A bark of laughter escaped Arthur's mouth; spending time with Merlin always lifted his spirits even in the darkest hours. “I very much doubt it, and I'm quite content to leave the spells to you.” But his mood changed like quick silver and he stared, reflectively, into his beaker. “You almost saved my father's life.” He looked up at his friend.

“I did everything I could, and I was sure the spell was working.” He shook his head in regret and exasperation. “Gaius and I suspected Agravaine, but we didn't know then that he was working so closely with Morgana. I never thought to look for a counter charm.”

“Why didn't you tell me... about the pendant, I mean?”

“We've been pretty distracted over the last few days, Arthur, and you definitely wouldn't have believed us at the time. Agravaine was your uncle and you should have been able to trust him,” Merlin said edgily, revealing his anger that Arthur's only surviving relative had betrayed him. “Goodness knows why he chose Morgana. Gaius and I could never work that out.”

“You're certain Morgana was responsible for enchanting the pendant?” Still Arthur chose to make excuses for his sister.

“I saw Agravaine with her. Besides, who else could? Morgause was dead, and there's no one else I know who has such power, except perhaps Mordred, and I believe he was in The North at the time.”

“No, not Mordred,” Arthur agreed, taking a drink. “I hadn't driven him straight into Morgana's clutches then.” Setting the cup down on the floor, Arthur changed the subject. There was little point on dwelling on his failure with Mordred, except to make sure he didn't repeat his mistake. “Dragoon also saved Guinevere from the flames my father had consigned her to.” He leaned forward in his chair, watching the flickering fire... and imagining his Guinevere... He shuddered. “I owe you more than I can ever repay you.”

“You owe me nothing.”

Shrugging, Arthur said a touch peevishly. “Because it is your destiny?”

“It began with destiny, but you know that's not why I stay by your side.” Merlin regarded Arthur until his friend returned his gaze. “I grew up without my father; I lost my boyhood friend; my mother and Gaius are the only family I have. Gwen befriended me when first I arrived in Camelot. She's like the sister I never had, and though you are still the most stubborn, irritating, demanding man I could ever meet, you've become my brother, and that is why I do everything I can to protect you.”

“And I you.” They grinned somewhat self-consciously, both happier trading insults with each other. Abruptly, Arthur's eyes gleamed mischievously, as he pointed at his friend. “You were the Dolma! Weren't you? A woman, Merlin? I always said you were a big girl.” He couldn't restrain his laughter, doubling over with delight.

“Blame Gaius for that. He knew I had to disguise myself, but he knew you wouldn't trust Dragoon again.”

“Now I think of it, I thought she was familiar too, but how do you manage to change your appearance so quickly?”

“Aging spell! Let me tell you, it's not easy to do, and even harder to change back to normal. You caught me that first time, and I almost burned in Gwen's place. Thank goodness Gaius managed to concoct a potion to break the spell. Now I make sure I have a constant supply, though I think I've mastered both parts of the enchantment now.”

“Hopefully, you'll never need to disguise yourself again, not from me, anyway. And you've saved my Guinevere so many times... not so long ago either. ”

“Arthur, my magic cleansed Gwen, but it was your love which got her into the water. No matter what disguise I was in, I would have been helpless to perform the purification spell if she hadn't walked into the Cauldron voluntarily.”

“We make a good team.” Arthur picked up his cup to toast his friend, only to discover his cup was empty. Merlin reached over to refill it, and the friends shared a few minutes of comfortable silence before Arthur broached the subject that was troubling them both. “Is that woman really Morgana?”

“Truthfully?”

“Merlin!” Arthur gave his friend the regal stare.

“Truthfully, I can't say for certain. She could be a shade.”

The King pressed his lips together. “I have no idea what that is.”

“No? You have encountered one before.” Slowly Arthur shook his head back and forth, a puzzled look on his face. “I know this subject is taboo... but Lancelot,” Merlin announced, forestalling Arthur's impatient demand. “Not always, of course, but when he came back from beyond the veil. He wasn't real.”

“He seemed real enough to me. He told us what happened to him. How the Madhavi people found him, the silk road, and how he made his way home.” 

“Memories put there by Morgana. Necromancy is a terrible and powerful magic, and Morgana used it to summon Lancelot from the otherworld, but that person was a body without a soul; a being with little knowledge of who they once were. They're called Shades and they are bound to obey the sorcerer who summons them.”

“But how can you be sure, Merlin?” Arthur asked, clearly upset by the direction their conversation had taken. He had buried his jealous hurt over Gwen's betrayal on the eve of their wedding. He'd even forgiven Guinevere, but somewhere, deep inside him, the wound was still raw.

“I found a test in one of Gaius' magic books, so he and I applied it to Lancelot, and what we saw, you don't want to know, but I can tell you, Lancelot was not a living being. At first, I thought he'd come back to kill you, but Morgana had a different target...”

“Guinevere!” Arthur ground out. “And my wife-to-be played directly into her and Lancelot's hands. I knew she always had feelings for him...”

“But she chose you, Arthur,” Merlin interrupted, leaning closer to The King. “Gwen asked him to take care of you when we went to defeat the Dorocha, and he laid down his life for you. She felt guilty, but she never regretted that Lancelot died in your place.”

“Then why did she throw herself into his arms the minute he returned?” Arthur pushed against the back of his chair, distancing himself from Merlin's explanation.

“Arthur, Morgana was involved! We know what she's capable of. I doubt Guinevere was totally in control of her own emotions.”

Arthur's seething thoughts forced him to his feet. Snatching at the wine jug, he poured himself another drink and swallowed it down. He crossed to the table and slammed jug and cup on the surface, his breath heaving in and out like a bellows as he remembered those awful days.

“She said she felt confused... drawn to him, but she never understood why. I was so angry, I scarcely listened to her explanation.” At last he turned, and Merlin saw pain written clear on his face. “I misjudged her, Merlin. You asked me to give her another chance, and I was too wrapped up in my own misery, I wouldn't heed you either. Again I chose to go with Agravaine. What a fool I was!”

“Arthur, why are you torturing yourself with what is in the past?” Merlin too rose, but he stayed by the fire. “Morgana couldn't destroy the love you and Gwen share, though we know she's tried a number of times. I only brought up Lancelot as an example of a Shade. It is possible we are dealing with another one. It would explain why Morgana seems so confused.”

With a sigh, Arthur leaned against the table. He was so tired, he only wanted to go to bed with his wife. This conversation might have dredged up old hurts, yet his love for Guinevere never faltered. But how could he sleep with Morgana lurking in the dungeons, and Arthur was never one to shy away from a problem.

“Merlin, you said you tested Lancelot. Could you do the same with Morgana?”

“It's what I was planning, and it shouldn't be too difficult. I have to paint some rune marks on the ground and entice Morgana to walk over them. If she is a Shade, believe me, we'll know. But, unfortunately, that's not all that worries me.”

“Someone had to summon her,” Arthur stated, fretting his lip with his teeth. “Have you any idea who?”

“Not at all. The only dark magical being I know who is still alive is The Dochraid, and I'm not sure she can leave her cave.” Merlin watched Arthur's head sink to his chest and his breathing become even more ragged. “Arthur, we have a plan, and I don't think we can do anything more until we test Morgana. You're exhausted, and I'm almost falling asleep standing up. Perhaps we should continue this in the morning, or even after the council is over. Between Iseldir and myself, we can keep Morgana secure.”

“Do you think she's come back because of the council?”

Merlin picked up Arthur's boots and came forward to confront his king. “You are asking questions to which I have no answers, and there is no way of getting them tonight. Go to bed!”

“Is that an order?” Arthur found it in him to grin, just a little.

“Yes! Your chest is hurting and you have hollows like quarries beneath your eyes. It's time you left.” Merlin thrust the boots into Arthur's arms. “Go cuddle Gwen, and I'm sure you'll sleep like a baby.”

“Alright. But this isn't over,” Arthur said, as he swayed slowly towards the door, prompting Merlin to accompany him into the corridor and to the royal chamber. At the last moment, Arthur stopped. “Is it possible she really does have amnesia?”

Merlin signaled the guards to open the doors and pushed Arthur inside. “Go to sleep. I'm sure we'll find some answers tomorrow.” He waited in the doorway as Arthur made his way to his bed. Dropping his boots and removing his clothes with some difficulty, Arthur climbed in next to Gwen and contrary to expectations, he was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

With a grin, Merlin returned to his own room, but he was a very worried man. Uniting Albion and bringing magic back to the kingdom seemed the least of his problems at the moment. Damn Morgana!

***** 

Sir Leon returned late to his quarters, having set up a bed, a table and some chairs in one of the larger cells above ground where Arthur had ordered Morgana to be secured. It seemed that no matter what wickedness the witch might commit, Arthur could not forget that she was his sister and that once they had been close.

Of course, Morgana had not seen it that way when she had been escorted inside. These were not her chambers. She had complained, but in a subdued manner... not like the high-spirited young woman she had once been, or the bitter, crazed witch she had become more recently. As he'd closed and locked the heavy wooden door, he believed he heard her weep.

Leon had watched in fascination as Iseldir had performed an enchantment, creating a mannikin of straw, setting it alight, while he murmured a spell in the old Druid tongue, then hung it over the door to the cell. Iseldir explained this would confine Morgana's magic. If Sir Leon could ensure the physical side of her incarceration, Camelot had nothing to fear from the High Priestess, for the present. With that in mind, Leon had commanded two guards to stand sentry duty by the door, while two more were stationed at the end of the corridor, and all would be relieved every two hours. 

Now Morgana was in their hands, he intended to make sure she could do no more harm. Whether she was telling the truth or not about her memory loss made little difference to him. In his opinion, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Which, he realised, as he made ready for bed, was his whole opinion on magic. Sorcery gave too much power to unscrupulous people, and he wasn't sure it could ever be controlled.

There was a soft knock on his door and, for some seconds, he thought he might have imagined it. This had been a bizarre night, after all. But the tapping came again, more insistently. Leon glanced over to the pallet by the wall, checking to see if Percival were awake, but the large man never stirred. Moving quietly to the door, Leon opened it a crack, peering out into the shadowy passageway.

“Leon?” a voice whispered. “We have to talk.”

The voice was one he hardly recognised except that it held echoes of his youth. His chance caller was Brennan, his father's older brother, who had returned to take over the family's lands and title when his grandfather had died, and who, he had no doubt, was firmly entrenched against the return of sorcery.

Slipping into the hallway and pulling the door closed behind him, Leon faced the leader of his house. “What do you want, Uncle?”

“To talk! Haven't I just said?” Brennan replied, irately. “But I don't wish to talk in a passageway.” He looked up and down the bare hall. “Let me in!”

“Brennan, I can't. Right at this moment, I'm sharing a room with another of Camelot's knights, and I'm fairly sure you want to talk in private. Besides, it's late, and I've had a very busy day. Can't it wait until morning?”

The older man frowned at his nephew. “No, it can't. The Grand Council starts tomorrow morning and we have to decide on our plan of attack. You can help with that...”

“In what way?” Leon said his voice low but hard edged.

Finally accepting he wasn't going to be admitted to Leon's room, Lord Brennan leaned closer. “I understand you are very close to The King, close enough to be taken into his confidence.” Camelot's visitor looked directly into Leon's eyes, yet, in his arrogance, he didn't notice the cold anger that simmered there. “You're in the perfect position to warn us of his plans, so that we can countermand them.”

Taking a few threatening steps towards his Uncle, Leon made Brennan back up. Both men were tall, though Leon had the advantage of daily weapons training, which broadened his shoulders and whittled his waist. Leon drew himself up to his full height.

“Uncle, for the sake of our blood bond, I will ignore your suggestion. I have pledged my allegiance to Arthur, and even if he were not a king who I admired, I would not soil my honour by betraying him, particularly to one who means him ill.”

“I do not wish him ill,” Brennan countered angrily. “Though I have to question his sanity. What is he thinking, legalising magic? Has he lost his wits?”

“No! It's just he's discovered that all sorcery might not be evil,” Leon explained, though without a great deal of conviction.

Brennan pounced on that uncertainty. “Leon, you hated magic. It killed your father!”

“Did it? Gaius said the wound putrefied and my father died of natural causes.”

“Indeed he would say that,” Brennan declared, his opinion of Gaius obvious in his disapproving stare and sarcastic tone. “He was a sorcerer himself once. Did you know that? I believe he almost made it to the pyre.”

Leon shrugged. “I do! Unlike you, I was in Camelot at the time, and Gaius was unjustly incriminated. There are many knights who owe their lives to Gaius's skills, but he cannot work miracles. If he were a sorcerer, then none of his patients would die. So I'd advise you not to follow that path...”

“Very well, but his servant, this Merlin; it's rumoured he is a sorcerer, and is close to The King...”

“Before you go on, Uncle, I have to tell you that Merlin is a friend of mine and I would trust him with my life.” Leon backed up to his room. “If you're looking for a spy to do your bidding, you've come to the wrong person, and I would warn you against undermining Arthur's plans by dishonest means.”

For the first time, Brennan looked uncertain. “Do you plan on telling The King of our conversation.?

There was silence as Leon pondered his intentions. There was no doubt that he was true to Arthur and not only because he was king. Yet this man was a blood relative and Leon understood his worries about sorcery. “No. I'll forget our meeting, Brennan, but I will reiterate my warning. You can be honest in your stand against magic. Arthur has decreed that this is an open debate and that everyone has a right to their beliefs, but do not dishonour our family with acts akin to treason. I will not allow you to destroy Arthur.”

Leon turned and marched into his chamber, but his breathing was heavy. Never had he felt so perplexed. He'd lived his whole life believing in the evils of sorcery, yet he knew, without a shadow of doubt, that Merlin and Iseldir were decent men in whose hands he would entrust his life. He could not say the same of his uncle.

In the passageway, Brennan bared his teeth like a rabid dog. He had thought to find an ally in his nephew, but, clearly, Leon had lived too long in Camelot under the influence of The King.

Now he left quickly to find a quiet spot in this overcrowded castle; he had a message to send to his true liege-lord. The day they'd planned for had been long in coming, but after Camlann, they'd been confident Queen Guinevere could be easily overthrown. Arthur's return had cast them into confusion, yet all was not lost. He judged that Camelot was ripe for a takeover. Arthur had, at last, made a serious mistake.

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank Matchgirl and the anonymous guests who are adding kudos and the readers who are enjoying this story enough to leave comments. I thank you so much.
> 
> I enjoy writing, but your comments let me know that my efforts are worthwhile. You make me feel very happy.


	13. Opening Gambit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grand Council to debate the return of magic begins and a sensitive secret from the past is discussed.
> 
> In this chapter there is some telepathic conversation and these are denoted within ~......~.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These 3 days come around very quickly, so time to post the next chapter. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter Thirteen  
Opening Gambit

If it were at all possible, two hours before noon, the great hall was already more crowded than the day before. The Grand Council was to begin at midday, but the community of Albion, mostly the nobles, had arrived early to procure a place. Arthur had ordered the windows to be opened, so that attendees could use the long balcony to listen to the proceedings, and the doors be kept open so that the ante-chambers could accommodate late comers.

He had sent both Leon and Percival to chivy along the head villagers from the outlying districts, but unless they had ridden through the night, he feared few would arrive in time. Nevertheless, as Guinevere pointed out, there was little doubt that the debate on magic would be concluded within one day, and there was every chance that those who would support Arthur would be there for the count.

In fact, just before midday, while Arthur and Guinevere were assembling their supporters in the small council chamber, Percival arrived with a surprising, but very welcome visitor. Mary Howden and her escort had come with all speed to offer their backing to a king and queen who had helped their village when the Lamia had drained the menfolk of their strength. Unfortunately, her husband John had been ailing of late and was unable to travel, so he had sent Mary and his deputy, Bryce, as his proxy with the written documents to ensure their vote was legal. The reunion had been a happy one as well of one of relief.

Merlin and Arthur could only hope there were more country folk out there who felt as Mary and her people.

But the time could not be put off, and on the stroke of noon, the alarm bell rang out, signifying the opening of The Grand Council. Arthur entered the room with Guinevere, Merlin, Geoffrey and Gaius; Percival and Leon and a large number of junior knights acting as their bodyguards. In truth, Arthur had hoped that Kay would return, but since he had been sent to Brineved, a region on the very borders of Albion, there was little hope he would arrive before tomorrow. 

An immediate hush fell over the huge room, as the royal party, all purposely dressed in their finest, made their way to the dais. The King had chosen to discard his armour, and was dressed comfortably in a tailored red tunic topped by his ceremonial cloak with the golden dragon badge of Camelot emblazoned on the velvet. About his neck he wore the jeweled chain of his office, which he very seldom did, being averse to shows of affluence, though he did wear his crown. 

Queen Guinevere looked equally regal and breathtakingly lovely in her coronation gown; a confection of cream silk beaded with jewels, with an overdress of royal purple. The dress had been stored away since that day, but Arthur had insisted it be brought out for this momentous occasion. Precious jewels glowed lustrously around her graceful neck and in her ears, and she too wore her crown.

Even Merlin was wearing his red velvet jacket, which had been made for Gwen's coronation, underneath his new blue robe.

In the silence, Arthur escorted Guinevere to her throne then turned to face his audience. Learning from yesterday's experience, he did not give the people time to start bickering, but raised both hands for silence.

“You all know the reason for this gathering, and I understand that everyone has their own views on the matter of magic, but I'm determined this will be a civilised meeting. Each of you will get the chance to have your say, but you will not talk over each other, or shout each other down, or even bully another into your way of thinking.” He paused a moment to be sure everyone had heard. “Those of you on the walkway outside and in the ante-chambers, if you can hear me, I want you to nod your head to the guard stationed closest to you. Guards, you will relay their message to myself or Geoffrey of Monmouth. If this is clear, do so now!”

There was another slightly longer delay as the method was verified.

“After myself, The Queen, Councillor Gaius, my Personal Adviser Merlin Emrys and my Commander of the Knights, Sir Leon, will have their say. Afterwards, each of you who wish to speak are invited to present your name to the scribes you see in front of the dais. Again, there are two scribes each by the windows and doors for those of you not actually in the chamber. We shall then break for the day, and tomorrow, your names will be called out in alphabetical order, so that no one has precedence over another, and you may put your point of view forward... for or against magic. No one will be judged on their honest opinion, though harrying other speakers will be frowned upon and may result in you being expelled from the council.”

While The King was speaking, Gwen and Merlin exchanged glances. Normally, Merlin would help Arthur write his speeches, but never those given on the battleground. It appeared, since these words were Arthur's alone, he was sure this gathering might be a battleground in all but name. However, it was also clear that Arthur had given a lot of thought to this meeting, and The Queen and Arthur's new titular Adviser were impressed.

“However, as this is a debate, at the end of the proceedings the meeting will be thrown open, and people can challenge opinions they do not agree with.” There was a murmur throughout the chamber as he spoke. “But I warn you; this is a civilised society and I will require each and everyone of you to remember that. Arguments will be tolerated, but not aggression, and the only weapons in this chamber will be carried by my guards. To that end, Sirs Leon, Percival and Calder will supervise the guards as they collect swords and knives from anyone who is armed.”

At that, the muttering grew in volume, the news having taken the assembly completely by surprise, though why that should be was a mystery, since only the knights and soldiers were allowed to carry weapons in the presence of The King.

Clearly, and worryingly, certain nobles were intent on causing mayhem, and it was not long before the first one objected.

“Sire, you cannot mean us to give up our weapons when there are sorcerers present!” Brennan of Avebury shouted, pushing his way to the front of the crowd.

Arthur regarded the middle-aged man standing at the foot of the steps, trying to discern any likeness to Sir Leon, this man being his uncle. Yet apart from the same height and hair colouring there was little similarity, certainly none of the friendly reticence of Leon. Brennan appeared a conceited individual, dressed finely in the tan and yellow colours of his house, a heavy jewelled broach clasping his cloak, while red gold rings adorned his fingers.

“Lord Avebury, if you are referring to my friend, Merlin, he is a warlock, not a sorcerer, which does make a difference, and if you attend the rest of the council, you will discover those differences.” Arthur addressed Avebury, but his message was for everyone. “However, if you want to remain, you will have to yield your sword to my knights. Believe me, your sword would afford you little protection should Merlin wish to attack you.”

The man paled, but he would not back down. “You, a Pendragon, have fallen so far from your father's path that you would allow a sorcerer to threaten one of your foremost nobles, here in Uther's citadel?” Brennan spread his arms and spat out the question as if the words soured his mouth.

Yet Arthur did not quail. Instead, he stood taller, his crowned head high and his shoulders back, and never did he look so strong, or so controlled in his anger. “I did not threaten you, rather I offered you a warning. But Merlin will hurt no one here, unless they have come with ill intent. Merlin Emrys has magic, but he is no enemy of myself or Camelot, and if you had answered my summons to Camlann, Avebury, as you should have done, being... what did you call yourself? One of my foremost nobles?” Arthur asked sarcastically, then stilled, allowing the others who had absented themselves from the battle to feel his displeasure. “Had you obeyed your King's command, you would have seen Emrys destroy the enemy hordes and with the rest of our army, send them running back to the Saxon Shore.”

The King gazed around the hall, taking pride in those men who had fought on Camlann Plain, yet noting those who seemed embarrassed at their dereliction of duty, and marking those who remained defiant at his accusation. 

“I myself was mortally wounded during the fight, and Merlin sought me out, tended to my injuries and cured me with magic, just as he has used magic to protect me many times while in my service. It is for this reason I have decided that we should re-examine our stand on magic; that perhaps not all magic and not all sorcerers are the same,” Arthur said, borrowing Merlin's words of long ago. “Perhaps my father was mistaken in his doctrine that all sorcery is evil.”

“But is it not true that you were wounded by a sorcerer at Camlann?” Avebury asked, hardly masking a sneer. “And yet you would still have sorcery legalised?”

“I don't deny the fact of how I was injured. The young sorcerer who struck me down believed he had good reason. He sought revenge because I had transgressed against someone he loved. I do not say I acted against the law, but it is these sweeping laws against sorcery which has led to these interminable wars between Camelot and the Old Religion. Wars which have destroyed many innocent lives on both sides, and would have taken my own life, if Merlin had not intervened to save me.” 

“My Lord, are you suggesting that magic can be used for good?” another male voice asked from the side of the hall.

Turning his head, Arthur was not surprised to see Cedric come forward. “Lord Walton, I am suggesting that not all people who use magic are evil, and that many only wish to help Albion become a place of learning, justice and peace. However, as this is a subject which will touch everyone who dwells within our borders, I and my advisers are willing to listen to all opinions on the question, which is why I have set out these rules for this Grand Council.”

For some minutes, The King allowed the people to think over his regulations and to discuss their thoughts with those around them. But he gave them little time, and once again called for silence.

“Given these unforeseen interruptions, the schedule is already running late, and I suspect many of you will wish to register your names with the scribes so you may air your views.” There was a chorus of assent at his words. “Therefor, since you already know my feelings on the matter, I will keep what I have to say short.” Arthur, swallowed and again squared his shoulders. He did not find it easy to admit his failings in public, but this had to be done.

“As you all know, I was brought up by my father to believe in the evils of sorcery, and that it must be totally wiped out from our realm. As leader of Camelot's army, I was sent, whenever a Druid camp was discovered, to destroy the inhabitants, every last one. I am sad to say that I did as I was bid, yet I watched in horror the ferocity of such attacks. I watched men, women and children slaughtered, and though I tried to stay my soldiers' hands at the killing of children, they were too afraid of disobeying my father's orders that they were deaf to my entreaties. However, very seldom during those assaults did I see a Druid use magic to retaliate. If they employed magic at all, it was only in trying to escape, which increases the measure of my shame.” Arthur cleared his throat. “There is nothing I can do to atone for my sins of the past, but I have made peace with the Druids. As long as they keep faith with me, these people remain under my protection, no matter what is decided at this council.”

 

The whispering in the hall swelled like a great wave waiting to crash against the shore, but The King gave it no time to reach its crescendo.

“That is my decree, and if anyone breaks it, they will learn I can be my father's son!” Arthur proclaimed, sounding more like Uther than any in the hall had ever heard before.

“But I have had my say for now.” Arthur turned and offered his hand to his wife. “I pray you listen to Queen Guinevere in polite... silence.”

Grateful for Arthur's encouragement, Gwen rose and smoothed down the silk of her overdress. She wasn't sure why she felt nervous, since she had often addressed the court when Arthur was away from Camelot. 

This time felt different. Perhaps because the subject was too important for her to fail. In fact, she had asked Arthur if it was truly necessary that she should recount her experiences with magic, but both he and Merlin had assured her that having been enchanted by dark magic and cleansed by The White Goddess, her input was significant.

Steadily, she made her way to the front of the dais. Lifting her head high, she looked over the crowd to the widow's walk, the balcony high above the main entrance to the hall. There were knights stationed along its length, as once it had been used as an assassin's hide, though she could barely remember the attempt on her husband's life.

But she did hear Arthur clear his throat and his whispered, “Guinevere?”

She lowered her gaze, but the sea of faces staring at her, waiting for her to speak, nearly drove her from the room. Yet Arthur was relying on her, and she would not let him down... not in this.

“People of Camelot, I am sure you are aware that I was not always a queen, not even a daughter of a noble house. I am the child of Thomas the Smith; the owner of Camelot's finest forge,” she said with pride, though she was conscious of Arthur's sideways glance. “Many here knew my father and the quality of his work. He was a good man who toiled hard to keep his family fed and clothed. Yet one time, and one time only, he accepted a commission from a stranger to Camelot, one who promised him a decent price for his labours. He did not realise the man was a sorcerer, and my father's only fault was that he did not question his new employer.”

Behind The Queen, Arthur looked towards Merlin; what was Guinevere doing? Merlin shrugged to show Arthur he was just as puzzled. Neither of them noticed Gaius' lips narrow, nor his eyes water with sympathetic tears, afraid he knew exactly why Gwen had chosen this path. 

“When my father discovered he was working for a sorcerer, it was already too late. Uther's guards broke into my father's forge and arrested him. My father acted foolishly, but he did not deserve to die, but Uther ordered him killed, as he did with all the others who consorted with sorcerers, knowingly or not. I'm sure many of you present know of innocents who were slaughtered under Uther's laws against magic. These laws must not stand any longer. King Arthur seeks to repeal them. It is the right thing to do and I beg you to support him.”

Guinevere stepped back to her throne and sat down. Uncharacteristically, her head drooped on her long neck to stare at her lap, but not before Arthur had caught sight of the tears beading her lashes. It was so unlike Guinevere not to stick to their plan; his wife was hurting and he worried for her.

The atmosphere on the dais was growing fraught, and Gaius stepped quickly into the breach, hoping to distract The King and Merlin from studying Gwen.

“Nobles, Knights, and people of Camelot, you all know me as Court Physician and adviser to both King Arthur and his father Uther. I am an old man, and as I look around me, I see some others who remember a time before The Great Purge, when people with magic lived side-by-side in peace with people without magic. A time when magic healers were trusted to cure the ailments of the citizens.

People of magic are in tune with nature. They learn the properties of plants and herbs which grow from the earth, that which can help and that which can harm humans. Very often, when someone visited a magic healer with a minor ailment, they left with a concoction which any one of you could learn to produce if you had the desire, and the illness was healed. Magic was only deemed to be used if the injury or malady was life threatening. Most times it worked, but on occasion even magic failed...”

“And why was that?” Brennan interrupted Gaius angrily. “Could it be that the sorcerer used his knowledge of the plants that can harm humans and killed his patient?”

“Never that I knew of, but I suppose it is possible, or perhaps the healer was not so skilled in magic as another. Like any other trade, there are differences in abilities. Not all farmers produce great yields of grain, nor bakers the same quality of bread, nor seamstresses sew such straight seams. I cannot see into the heart of every man, whether they have magic or not. I only point out that before Uther decided sorcery was evil, most people trusted those who had magic.”

There were a few cries of agreement from the body of the hall, mainly from older inhabitants, but one persistent voice shouted down the rest.

“If magic was so benign, why did our lord, King Uther, turn against it?” Brennan asked again. “He was a good man, so there must have been a reason for declaring it illegal and condemning every known sorcerer to death!”

At Brennan's statement, there were more loud words, this time of accord and many others nodded their heads.

Gaius seemed to grow older, as his shoulders rounded further and he turned to his king, one eyebrow quirking higher as he silently asked a question. But Arthur did not flinch. He, Gaius and Merlin had already discussed their plans and decided that all should be revealed. He gave his consent with a tiny wry smile, witnessed only by those on the rostrum.

“Yes, there was a reason,” Gaius answered slowly. “A tragic reason, known to a very few who are still alive.” But Gaius stopped, unwilling to go on. “Arthur, my lord, are you sure you want me to continue?” he asked with some desperation. 

“Yes, Gaius. It is time my people knew the truth behind The Great Purge, and you are the only person left who was party to the arrangement. Please, continue.”

It took Gaius a few seconds to compose himself, then he started talking...

“It concerned the marriage of King Uther and the Lady Ygraine du Bois. As many of you know, theirs was a happy marriage, but as the years went by and no child appeared, it became apparent that Queen Ygraine was barren, since Uther had fathered children elsewhere. Uther grew more desperate as time passed. He needed an heir to continue his royal line of The Pendragons, yet he loved his wife and he was loath to put her from him.

As I mentioned before, at this time, sorcerers were welcome in Camelot, and Uther had friends amongst their number, myself included. He came to me with his problem of a childless marriage and asked if there was a way in which magic could remedy his dilemma. I myself did not have the power to aid him, but I knew of a High Priestess of the Old Religion who might have an answer for him. Indeed the lady was known to Uther, and had been a guest of the royal couple on a few occasions.

He invited her to Camelot once more, and asked me to say nothing of his plans to anyone. When Nimueh arrived, he contrived to have a conversation with her with only myself and one of her assistants present. It was during this talk that Nimueh and Uther struck a bargain which would gain Uther his treasured heir.”

Gaius halted again, and it seemed as if he might collapse, yet when Arthur moved to support him, he raised his hand to halt The King.

“I'm sorry, Sire. I find reliving these memories very distressing, and I know you must feel the same. If I might have a drink of water, I am sure I can continue.”

Arthur gave Gaius the requested drink from his own hands, and stayed close to the old man.

“Thank you, my boy.” Gaius patted Arthur's hand; the two united in grief no longer king and subject. “Nimueh wove her enchantment in private, and an elixir was poured secretly into Ygraine's wine, but before the deed was done, Nimueh did warn Uther that the balance of nature would have to be redressed, and that to create a life another must be taken. I want it on record that I witnessed that warning. However, I also believe that neither Uther nor Nimueh dreamt that Ygraine would pay the price.”

Here, Gaius glanced at the boy by his side, but the only signs Arthur gave of torment was a paling of his skin, the tightening of his jaw.

“The Queen was soon with child, and I had never seen a couple so happy. The whole kingdom rejoiced with them. Nimueh became a frequent visitor to Camelot and she was held in high esteem by Uther.”

“I attended Ygraine at the birth, and I am sorry to say that The Queen had a very difficult travail.” Gaius spoke more softly, and the people in the hall leaned closer to hear the end of the tail. Yet the old physician had forgotten the room full of witnesses, solely addressing the boy he had cared for since that day. “Arthur, your mother loved you from the moment I placed you in her arms. She knew she was dying. We could not staunch the bleeding, you see, but not once did she regret giving her life for you. She made your father and myself promise to care for you with all our strength, then she slipped slowly away. Her last kiss was for you, Arthur. Your mother was a wonderful lady.”

Into the silence which had fallen over the hall, Brennan threw a question. “And what of this High Priestess, Nimueh? If she was such a friend of Camelot, why did she not come to save The Queen?”

Brennan was beginning to anger Gaius and with a fortitude he did not know he possessed, he swung on the noble. “I cannot answer for a High Priestess, and one who is now dead, killed by Merlin, I might add. Uther did send for her, but Ygraine was already gone by the time she arrived. I doubt it would have made a difference; there was nothing she could have done... to create a life, a life must be taken. I am told it is a written law of the Old Religion, and Nimueh insisted that the life lost was random.

Needless to say, Uther was driven mad with despair. He raged at Nimueh, blamed her for his wife's death, even though he too was complicit. He mourned alone for days, and when he emerged from his chambers, he was a changed man. All sorcerers were ordered to leave Camelot on pain of death. I myself made ready to leave, but he came to me, giving me permission to remain as court physician, mainly to take care of his motherless son, if I promised to renounce magic forever. I was given a day to decide, yet I needed no time at all.” Again Gaius focused on Arthur. “I had made a promise to your mother, you see, and it was one I intended to keep to my dying day... still do, though perhaps that time is not so far away now.”

“No, Gaius. Never say so. Camelot needs you. I need you,” Arthur replied, with a small but heartfelt smile.

“Why the gods would we need an old man who is a sorcerer?” Brennan sneered, his self-justification building as he felt the support of those around him. “And are we to accept this mythical story of his as the truth? He admits he was the only person present when Uther struck the bargain with this High Priestess - a woman who proved to be an enemy of Camelot for many years. I for one do not believe Uther would make such a deal. He hated sorcery and everything it stood for!”

“No, he did not!” Cedric, with Amena at his side, pushed his way to confront Brennan Avebury. “Uther was once my friend, and I was often in Camelot and know that Gaius speaks the truth. You, on the other hand, were fighting wars over The Narrow Sea, while making yourself rich on the bounty of those you vanquished. You speak of a time you only know by hearsay.”

“Are you accusing my father of lying? Choose your answer carefully, for I will call you out!”

“Enough of this!” Arthur demanded, his voice like thunder as he descended the steps. “You are both in danger of being escorted from this hall.” Truthfully, Arthur didn't want to lose Cedric from the proceedings, but he had to appear to be even-handed.

“Forgive me, Sire,” Cedric was quick to apologise. “I meant no slur on the late Lord of Avebury. I was perhaps too hasty in my speech. I only meant that Brennan was not present in Albion at the time we speak of.”

“Your apology is accepted, Lord Walton, and if your liege-lord can accept the apology, I expect no less of you, Lord Avebury.” 

Brennan realised he had been backed into a corner. He was not happy, but he bowed his head to The King. “Yes, Sire.”

“Then we will continue with setting out the points for future debate,” Arthur said, turning to remount the stairs, but he was halted by a fragile female voice.

“Please, Sire, I have something to add to Gaius's statement. Something of great import,” Lady Amena said in little more than a whisper, and as one the crowd craned their necks to see who had spoken.

“Lady Amena, you are sure this is something that cannot be held back till later?” Arthur asked, kindly, though he was inwardly disheartened. This meeting was dragging on much longer than they'd planned.

“I can verify Gaius's account, because I too was present at that fateful meeting,” Amena's whisper was meant for The King's ear only, and her eyes held fast to his gaze.

Arthur frowned. “But that would mean...”

“Yes, Sire. I have magic,” she almost mouthed the last words.

Shock blanched Arthur's face. This was a day full of surprises! Nevertheless, he quickly schooled his expression, as he spotted Brennan edging closer, intent on eavesdropping. That would not be a good thing. Arthur recognised an enemy when he saw one, and one, he suspected, whose motives were more than a hatred of sorcery. He would have to question Leon about his uncle, but not yet.

Herding the older couple up to the dais, he addressed the gathering again.

“It appears this session of the Grand Council has exceeded its time limit, and I'm sure you must all be weary. I know my mind needs time to process all I have already heard.” Arthur saw empathetic gestures amongst the crowd, sympathisers who understood it could not have been easy to listen to the origins of his creation and birth spoken of in public. “Therefor, I command a recess. My servants will furnish you with food and drink, and you may take some exercise if you so need in the palace corridors and courtyard. The upper floors, hosting the royal chambers, however, are off limits. “We will reconvene... two hours before sundown.”

Arthur hoped that would give enough time for the knights and Merlin to have their say, and also the additional witness account of Amena. He suspected dinner would be served a little late this evening, and made a note to tell Guinevere to inform the kitchen staff. With the thought of Guinevere came the reminder of her unexpected change of topic and the sense of anxiety it had brought him. 

But for the present, he had other things to worry about, and he led the group from the dais out of the great hall and up the stairs to... where should they go to avoid being disturbed? Then his destination popped directly into his mind, sent by Merlin.

~Your father's chambers? They have remained unused since his death.~

~How apt, Merlin. So be it! Where else should we discuss his bargain with Nimueh?~

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank Keandre for adding kudos and to those guests whose names I do not know. I'd also like to add a very big thank you to the readers who are commenting. You give me the inspiration to keep posting this story.


	14. An Unlikely Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A truth which has been kept secret for a very long time is explained, at last, and Arthur needs the support of Merlin and Guinevere to help him deal with the knowledge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to post again and again I'm keeping my fingers crossed that you will enjoy.

Chapter Fourteen  
An Unlikely Revelation

On the way to the old king's abode, Merlin watched his three friends closely. Truth to tell, he was more than a little stressed himself. He'd been certain that by this time in the proceedings, he would have already played his part, announcing to all of Camelot that he was the Warlock, Emrys. That his destiny had and always would be to use his magic to protect The King and Queen and everyone who resided in Camelot, who needed defending from sorcerers or ordinary villains.

And he would do so, even if the debate went against him and he was sent into exile. Of course, it would make keeping them safe more difficult if done from a distance, but nevertheless, he would abide by the decision of the Grand Council.

But the meeting had not gone as planned at all, and Arthur had called a break for refreshments and, hopefully, time to deliberate. Judging by the uncertain mood of the crowd, most people were sorely in need of both.

Now he watched Gaius as he climbed the stairs sluggishly, with a grimace of pain. He was an old man, and he hadn't deserved the malicious harangue he'd received from Lord Avebury. Thankfully, Arthur had stepped in to save Gaius, which was just as well, as Merlin was afraid his first open act of magic would have been to turn Avebury into a toad!

However, Merlin could content himself that Gaius was a tough old bird, and he'd dealt with miscreants like Brennan Avebury many times before... and out of the rant had come a very unexpected development, which had forced Arthur to adjourn the proceedings.

His eyes went next to Gwen, because there was no denying that she looked troubled. Was she upset at the retelling of the story of a barren queen whose husband had been forced to use sorcery to gain himself an heir? Gwen and Arthur were still childless, and he knew Guinevere blamed herself. But he doubted she was anxious for that reason alone because Gwen had chosen to discard the script entirely, before Gaius had spoken a word. There must be something else causing her alarm, and Merlin decided to get to the bottom of her reasons as soon as this interminable day ended. He was also aware that Arthur was clueless about her motives, and just as worried as he.

They'd reached the doors to Uther's chambers, and as Arthur clumsily searched through the heavy keyring, looking for the correct key to open the door, Merlin incanted a spell. His eyes flashed gold, momentarily, and the double doors swung open.

Looking up with raised eyebrows, Arthur stared Merlin down.

“Sorry. It just seemed quicker!” Merlin replied to Arthur's unspoken query. “By the way, would you like to send for refreshments to be delivered here? We could all use something, and I know George is the soul of discretion.”

At that, Gwen appeared to rouse herself. “No, Merlin, it's fine. That's my job, and besides I'm sure I need to tell the kitchen staff to prepare dinner a little later tonight.”

“Clever Guinevere,” Arthur said, grinning and placed a kiss on her forehead, glad to see his wife had shaken off her malaise. “If you would be so kind, but find a guard and relay the message. I don't want you running yourself ragged over this Grand Council thing, and I'd rather have you back here sooner rather than later.”

The Queen disappeared back down the stairs, while the rest of the group entered the room, where Merlin realised he was mostly concerned for Arthur. The King stood entirely still, trying to hide the fact he was holding a hand to his chest.

Uther's chambers were tended, but somewhat infrequently. There was a strange atmosphere of decay in the rooms, as if they had been frozen in time like the effigy of Uther now resting in Camelot's burial vaults.

After a moment, Arthur recovered and wandered over to his father's table, drawing a hand down the wood, causing a cloud of dust motes to rise and shimmer in the rays of the afternoon sun. The large chambers had many windows which faced different aspects of the citadel: Uther, a spider at the centre of his web.

The dust spread, drifting around Arthur's head, clogging his nose and throat, and suddenly he was coughing again; a hoarse, painful bark. With a short spell, Merlin moved a chair out for Arthur, and he sank, like a puppet without its strings, onto the cushioned seat.

“Ex... cuse me,” he wheezed between coughs. “Th... anks, Mer...lin.”

But Gaius had come prepared, and pulled two small bottles from the deep pockets of his robe, placing them in front of The King.

“Your tincture, my boy, and a new one I've prepared,” Gaius addressed Arthur in the more familial way, deciding he would be less likely to baulk at the extra medicine from the man who had looked after him for all of his life. “It should be more effective in clearing your lungs.”

Arthur didn't demur, but he did throw the physician a long-suffering look, before draining both vials. The complimentary nostrums did their job, and the cough settled down to a level which was easier for Arthur to control.

“Is The King still unwell?” Amena asked, her voice a little more confident now she was in a smaller company.

There was a painful silence, which Merlin quickly filled. “I'm afraid King Arthur is still suffering from the result of his injury,” he said airily, in a tone that suggested it was only a passing weakness. “But, given the mood of the crowd down there,” and he gestured with his head to the floors below them. “It's probably best that news doesn't become public knowledge.”

“Of course not,” Cedric reassured the group. “We would never reveal what was said to us in private, and certainly nothing that would harm King Arthur.”

“You have our word on that, Sire,” Amena added her pledge. “Yet, I think we are not here to discuss The King's ailments, but my admission.”

Again there was another pause as the door opened and Guinevere slipped into the room. “It seems George had already set your instructions in motion regards dinner, though he was wondering where to deliver our repast. He says he will bring it himself, so that we can remain private.”

“I never thought I'd say this, but thank goodness for George.” Arthur swallowed another cough as he spoke, unwilling to cause Guinevere more worry, but she seemed not to notice. “The man might be the world's biggest bore, but he is discreet...”

“And efficient! I could never match him.” Merlin laughed, bringing a smile to Arthur's face. There was a tapping at the door, and Percival moved to open it, only to find George with a very large tray of food, and balancing a jug of wine in the crook of his arm. “He's fast too.”

“You could almost swear he knew how to travel through time,” Arthur agreed, then fell silent as George set the tray on the table, allowing Percival to carry the jug.

“Shall I serve, Sire?” George asked, his stance erect as any of the palace guards.

“No thank you, George. I think we can manage that ourselves,” Arthur replied. “But thank you for your prompt service, and for your discretion.”

George bowed stiffly from the waist. “It is my duty to serve you, Sire, and do not fear that you shall be interrupted. I have instructed the guards to stop anyone else from venturing down this corridor.”

Arthur and Guinevere both smiled, and George, his duty over, left the chamber.

Without thinking, Gwen rose and went round the table filling goblets and offering some food to her guests. Everyone accepted the wine, but apart from Leon, Percival and Merlin, no one felt like eating, though Gwen did persuade Arthur to take a morsel of cheese, and she did partake a little herself.

Only when Guinevere was seated did Arthur notice her glance around the room, as if she expected to see his father's ghost, lurking in the corners. He didn't exactly feel comfortable here either, but he shrugged off his unease and turned to Amena.

“Now, Amena, did my ears deceive me in the hall, or did you say... you have magic?”

“I did, Sire, and it's true, once I had magic, but I have not practiced it in nigh on forty years, even before your father declared it against the law. To tell the truth, I wasn't a very successful sorcerer.” Amena blushed as she spoke. She folded her hands modestly in her lap and continued recounting her experiences with sorcery. “My family were minor land-owners, and I was the youngest of five sisters, and not the prettiest, so they sent me to The Isle of The Blessed to be taught how to practice magic, but I was not a good student, and after a few years I was returned home. They only kept the most proficient young girls to train, you see, and Nimueh and Morgause, though younger than myself, were by far the most talented students. I could tell they would one day become High Priestesses.”

“You knew Nimueh and Morgause?” Arthur asked, somewhat shocked that this plain, diminutive, elderly lady had such a colourful history. Yet he also knew, from earlier conversations, that Amena could be quite formidable when she so chose.

“I never really got to know Morgause. She was a very young child when she was brought to the Isle, and high born, so she was housed with the Priestesses and their chosen acolytes. Nimueh was one of those, though she was more friendly to the lesser students, and to me in particular. I think she felt sorry for me, and she tried to make my life easier. She was a much kinder person back then. She hadn't yet become the vengeful Priestess you all know of. I actually think she was sad when I was sent away because I hadn't reached the desired standard.”

“Did you know about your wife's past?” Arthur asked of Cedric.

“Yes, Sire,” Cedric had turned pale, though a high colour remained over his cheekbones. “Both Amena and I were a little older than normal when we wed, but we met and fell in love; a feeling which both of us believed had passed us by. Since she was honest with me, and had forsaken magic, I saw no impediment to taking her to wife. Besides, sorcery was not yet a crime then. And though we've had our share of tragedy, I have never regretted marrying her,” he ended on a slightly defiant note, as he covered her thin hand with his own.

“I'm sorry, Cedric,” Arthur said quickly, feeling he had sounded less than tactful. “I didn't mean to hurt or insult either you or Amena. Your friendship and support has been most welcome.” Arthur looked at Guinevere and smiled, though his expression was tinged with a strange yearning. “I hope our marriage lasts as long and be as happy as yours and Amena's. But I digress. Please continue, Amena.”

Amena smiled back, but the little magic she retained tingled at the bitter-sweet look the younger couple exchanged. There was something troubling them, which they did not wish to share with anyone with whom they were not completely at ease. She did not blame them. The royal couple had enemies a plenty, but she hoped that once she earned their trust, they might confide in her. Amena sensed that Guinevere was certainly in need of someone to talk to, and who better than an old lady who had experienced a lot of life's traumas.

But for now, she chose to address Arthur, and hopefully assure him she and Cedric could be relied upon. “Time passed, and Cedric, who had always been a friend to Uther, was made a councillor. Though we had our ancestral home, we decided to live in Camelot for most of the year, and it was here that Nimueh and I renewed our friendship.”

“Is that why you were a witness to the pact between my father and Nimueh?” Arthur scowled, as though even talking about the deed left a sour taste in his mouth.

Ever attuned to people's moods, Amena knew this young man had still not come to terms with what he saw as his father's betrayal of his mother, and her confessions could only make that matter worse. Yet she had embarked upon this journey of her own volition and now she had to see it through. Besides, in the end, it might help Arthur and Merlin's current plans.

“It was, Sire. There was increasing talk amongst the council suggesting Uther put Ygraine aside and remarry, but that your father refused to do. Instead, he sent for Nimueh with all speed. I believe he must have made his decision and decided to plough ahead quickly. I don't think he wanted to give himself time to change his mind, but I wasn't a confident of The King, so I can only surmise.” Amena fell silent, her mind reliving that meeting, so charged with emotion, longing and... dread.

“Can you tell me what happened, Amena?” Arthur controlled his anger which seethed in his gut. This lady was not to blame for what happened. Like Gaius, she had only been a witness, and probably a coerced one.

“I was summoned to Uther's presence. To tell the truth, I was very surprised to be called to see The King on my own and in a slightly clandestine manner. Cedric and Uther might have been close, but my friendship was more with Ygraine than with your father. I think he found me somewhat spiritless, and I wasn't at all beautiful. Your father had an eye for beautiful women... though I believe he was mostly faithful to Ygraine.”

Arthur groaned aloud. He'd learned for himself that 'mostly' was the pertinent word in Amena's last statement.

“Sorry,” he said, blushing slightly. “I did not mean to interrupt.”

Amena sent him an understanding smile, but went on recounting her tale. “I was surprised to find myself with just The King, Nimueh and Gaius, and even more shocked when I learned what the meeting was about. I knew Nimueh had the skill to fulfil his request, but to create a spell which would bring forth a babe would require powerful magic, and the risks were greater still.” Here Amena faltered, searching Arthur's face for signs that he was coping with her revelations, but his expression was blank, and his eyes hooded. “I couldn't believe Uther would gamble with a life so carelessly.”

Arthur's head snapped up. “Are you saying he knew my mother would die?”

“No. Not necessarily. But Nimueh did warn him that someone would die. Perhaps being a woman who had gone through childbirth, I instinctively thought of your mother. Yet I must give Uther his due; he did ask Nimueh who would pay with his life, but she could not tell him. Fate is fickle, and no one can know everyone's destiny, not even a High Priestess. But I believe your father was too arrogant to consider it might be Ygraine. When she died, there was no denying his anguish... or his guilt. And I never once heard him blame you, Arthur. You were the one person who he always loved.”

“But he took his guilt out on innocent people, when he himself was culpable,” Arthur growled, releasing his outrage and hurt.

“I believe it was the only way he could carry on, by transferring his self-recrimination onto others,” Amena agreed, her voice filled with sorrow and compassion for the boy born of magic at the cost of his mother's life. “But, Arthur, you are blameless. I too saw Ygraine before she died. You brought her more joy in those last hours than she had felt in her entire life.”

“Thank you for that,” Arthur said, trying to reel in his wrath for the man he had respected for most of his life, but who he had since learned was, in one terrible aspect, a hypocrite and a tyrant. Yet Uther had been his father, and though a harsh judge at times, he didn't doubt Amena's assurance that his father had loved him. “I think my father was a little insane,” he admitted in a whisper.

“It's what I saw too.” Cedric spoke up. “I watched him after your mother's death, and I think he became unhinged. I grew afraid for Amena as Uther ordered countless searches for Nimueh. Of course, he never found her, but when he turned his attention on other sorcerers, I feared for Amena. She had once been a novice of magic, and she had been a witness to the fatal bargain...”

“Though I swore an oath of secrecy, and I have kept that promise to this day,” Amena quickly added. “I wouldn't have spoken now, but I felt Gaius and you, Sire, deserved a friend.”

“Again I am in your debt, but I'm amazed my father never ordered your execution.”

“Perhaps for the same reasons he never prosecuted Gaius,” Cedric mused. “I was his close friend. We had trained to be knights together, myself, Uther and Gorlois, though I never had their prowess with a sword. Yet I admit I didn't fully rely on that friendship, because I retired from the council and took Amena away.”

Gaius considered for a moment before speaking. “You know, I think Uther forgot Amena was present. His hatred was centred totally on Nimueh. But, nevertheless, Cedric, I believe you were right to leave. Uther was unpredictable. He turned on anyone he suspected of witchcraft.”

“We sought refuge with relatives in the North for a long time, and when we did return we stayed away from court. We concentrated on our lands and our children, and even when they became sick, I ignored Amena's pleas to find a Druid healer. I made the excuse that I wouldn't break the laws of the land, but, truthfully, I was afraid to attract Uther's attention back to Amena, and so our children died...”

“It seems my father's bargain and my birth cast a terrible shadow over this land and one which I am now sworn to remove... with the help of Merlin...”

“Not just Merlin, Arthur,” Gwen cut in, taking hold of his hand.

“I know, Guinevere.” Arthur smiled, but the dark circles beneath his eyes proved he was tiring. “I know I have the support of everyone in this room, with the exception of Leon, perhaps?”

“Sire, if I could be sure that all sorcerers were as honourable as those in this room, you would have my unconditional backing,” Leon said.

“But that's just it, Leon,” Merlin answered, shaking his head. “Regretfully, we know quite a few who aren't, which is why we need to put safeguards in place before we open Camelot's gates to all magical beings. That's if the Grand Council decide in our favour.”

“But if they learn magic is legalised, surely people with sorcery won't need to attack us any more, “ Guinevere suggested, characteristically, believing the best of people.

“A lot might choose peace, but there could be those still wanting revenge for past transgressions.” Arthur took a drink of water. He would rather have tipped the water jug over his head. Now was not the time to feel weary, he knew they had to return to the hall. He stood, and everyone else rose too. But before Arthur moved toward the door, he stared directly at Gaius and Amena. “There is one question I have to ask. Did my mother know about my father's bargain?”

“No. Never!” Gaius declared. “As Amena said, there were only four people privy to that information, and none of us told anyone. I doubt even Nimueh spoke of it. The other High Priestesses would not have approved of the bargain.”

“Arthur, your mother was overjoyed when she found herself with child,” Amena said, her sincerity deeply moving. “She bloomed like a flower all the time she carried you... and when you were born, she was so proud of her beautiful baby boy. Even when she realised she was dying, she never regretted having you, and I swear she never knew of Uther's plot.”

“She died knowing you would live, Arthur.” Gaius, remembering, held back the tears he wanted to shed. “She'd have given her life ten times over to make sure you were safe.”

At the thought of his mother's sacrifice, Arthur's eyes filled with tears, yet he would not let them fall. Not in public. He pushed his fist into his mouth, trying to still the sobs which threatened to overwhelm him. Guinevere pulled him into her arms, holding him close.

“Cry, Arthur. Cry it all out,” she whispered, stroking his hair, knowing that his tears were a culmination of pain and exhaustion; sorrow for the past and worry for the future. “You do not always have to be brave.” 

At a look from Gwen, Merlin took charge. “I'm sorry, but could you all make your way to the great hall. I'm sure the crowds will be growing restive. Gwen and I will bring Arthur along as soon as we may.”

“I'll inform the public that Arthur is still recovering from the wound he took at Camlann, and needs some time alone to rest with his wife and physician,” Geoffrey of Monmouth offered. He was proving to be a stalwart ally. “Don't fret, Sire, most of the nobles and commoners are aware you suffered a dreadful wound. They will not be surprised, nor will they disapprove of you taking time to rest.”

“Thank you, Lord Geoffrey,” Arthur forced out, slowly gaining control of his emotions.

“And, Sire, don't worry about my uncle.” This time it was Sir Leon who assured his friend. “I will make certain he makes no more mischief while you're slightly incommoded.”

The King nodded as Merlin shepherded the group out of the room, thanking each quietly and sending them off to keep order amongst those waiting below.

Once the door was shut, he turned back to his friends. “Arthur, are you unwell or upset?”

Arthur lifted his head from Gwen's shoulder and grinned mirthlessly, wiping the moisture from his eyes. “A little of both, very tired and a whole lot infuriated.” Arthur couldn't help but lean on his slender wife, yet Gwen was strong.

“Perhaps you should lie down, Arthur,” Guinevere said gently, but almost recoiled as Arthur's answer exploded from him.

“Never!”

“Arthur!” Merlin rebuked him, noticing Gwen's shocked reaction.

“Sorry.” Arthur smoothed his wife's cheek apologetically. “And don't worry, Merlin, I'm not about to go chasing after anyone with a sword. The only people responsible for this diabolical mess are dead. Not to mention, I doubt I could lift a sword right now. But I will never spend a moment of time in that bed.” Arthur pointed to his father's huge, silk hung four-poster. “Do not ask me to.” The last declaration was midway between an order and a plea.

“Can you manage to walk to your own room?” Merlin asked again, completely understanding how his friend was feeling. He doubted Uther would ever rise again in his son's estimation, though the heart is a strange thing, and Arthur would always feel some love for his father. Loyalty was one of Arthur's more commendable virtues, a trait which Merlin shared completely. Though they might be different in many ways, in the important characteristics they were of the same coin.

“If you and Guinevere will give me your arms, I might not fall down.” And this time the glimmer of a smile in Arthur's eyes was sincere.

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think of this chapter? I do hope you liked it and would love to hear your thoughts.
> 
> I was delighted to pick up some new readers who left kudos. I'm happy to be able to thank Typewriters and Rosa85 for taking time to add kudos. The number is slowly growing. As for the guests who I can't thank personally, I am very grateful for your support.


	15. The Gauntlet is Thrown Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lady Amena and Merlin speak out in public. In private, Arthur is more than a little upset with Merlin, causing Guinevere to play peace-maker. Arthur also has a chat with Sir Leon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost forgot it's been three days and time for me to post again. I'm hoping you enjoy this chapter. I don't own Merlin, but love creating my own story about the characters and giving them a happier ending.

Chapter Fifteen  
The Gauntlet is Thrown Down

Somewhat amazingly Arthur, Guinevere and Merlin made it back to the great hall by the appointed time, particularly since Arthur had been persuaded to lie down on his bed and had actually fallen asleep. As he drifted into the arms of Morpheus, he had the vague notion that there had been a sleeping draft in his medicine. He really had to tell Gaius and Merlin that they couldn't keep feeding him potions on the quiet when he needed to stay sharp.

Yet, somehow, on awakening, he'd felt more alert and definitely stronger, ready to take on his opponents. The most notable of whom, so far, was Lord Avebury, but there were no doubt others who would add their voices later.

The hall fell silent when the doors opened and The King and Queen walked in, followed by the new Royal Adviser and Physician. Spontaneous clapping broke out as they made their way to the dais, the majority of the crowd relieved and happy to see King Arthur return looking fairly healthy.

Geoffrey of Monmouth had done his work well when he had informed the gathering that The King's wound was troubling him, and had managed to infer, without actually saying so, that the incensed debate earlier had aggravated his condition. The ploy might not win over the entrenched doubters, but those who were sitting on the fence and who loved Arthur as their king might look more kindly on what he had to say. 

In the face of Arthur's popularity, even Lord Avebury showed his support, though his hand clapping was without enthusiasm.

Arthur and Guinevere stood in front of their thrones with Merlin between them, while Leon and Percival came from the body of the hall to take their places either side of them. Gaius and Iseldir stood in the front row of the throng, while Lord and Lady Walton were shepherded up the few stairs to the rostrum by Lord Geoffrey.

Once everyone was in place, Arthur wasted no time. He held up his hand in salute and spoke to the assembly. “Greetings, again, my people. I hope you have all returned punctually, since we have little time to waste before this session ends.” The King looked around his hall, deciding it was just as crowded as before; he could still see the shapes of people standing out on the walkway, though a light mist seemed to have fallen over the citadel. As evening drew in, the temperature would cool, so perhaps he should have ordered braziers to be lit, though, if there were less interruptions, they might wind up this first meeting before people froze. 

With that in mind, he continued quickly. “We have an unexpected witness with us today. One who can corroborate Gaius' statement on the source behind my conception. I pray you, listen in silence and with good manners to Lady Amena Walton,” Arthur said with an iciness that made his request sound more like an order. He took her hand and led her to the centre of the stage. “Lady Amena, if you would be so good.” 

“Thank you, Sire.” Lady Amena, clothed in a dull lavender gown, bowed her now coiffed head, then turned to the rows upon rows of people, who were regarding her with curiosity and, in some cases, definite unfriendliness, if not animosity. However, she straightened her spine and spoke, as loudly as possible. “There is little I can add to what Gaius has told you, but the truth of his statement has been called into question, and I am here to say that everything he spoke of happened. I knew Nimueh, and she asked me to be present at the meeting. I didn't take part in the discussion, but I heard every word,” Amena stated, while she searched in the pocket hanging from her belt and withdrew a folded parchment, which was wrapped carefully in a square of silk cloth. 

Momentarily, she wondered whether this document should be made public, and she was certain she should have mentioned its existence to Arthur earlier, but the conversation had been fraught and there had been little time. Now it was too late. She already had the packet in her hand. Holding it aloft, she delivered a devastating stroke to those who doubted Uther's bargain with Nimueh. 

“I have here Nimueh's copy of the document which was signed by both the High Priestess and The King. When Uther turned against her and all sorcerers, she left it with me, as my husband and I were travelling North, out of Uther's reach.” 

“They signed documents?” Arthur asked, shocked that his father should commit such a secret to the written word.

“Nimueh refused to act without a contract,” Amena explained. “I think she had a premonition things might go awry, and she wanted proof that the idea had been Uther's alone.”

Brennan Avebury, never far from the foot of the dais, shouted loudly. “How do we know this is true? Nimueh could have lied, or perhaps the Lady of Walton is making excuses for her friend. Is she also a sorcerer?”

Amena flinched, but she did not back down. “Once I had a modicum of magic, but I have not practised it since Uther declared it illegal. I have never broken Camelot's laws on sorcery. But you are right to question, Lord Avebury, which is why I am happy to give this contract to The King, so that it and the royal signature can be verified.”

The parchment was exchanged, leaving Arthur handling the packet like it was contaminated by some odious toxin. He still couldn't understand his father's reasoning. Quickly, he passed the document to Geoffrey of Monmouth, while he turned to Amena. “You mentioned a copy, Lady Walton? Did my father have the original?”

“Yes, he did, but what happened to it, I could not say. Perhaps it is locked away in the vaults.”

Gaius came forward. “It was once kept in the vaults. I saw Uther put it under lock and key in the deepest part of Camelot, though I also saw him destroy it after Ygraine died, partly out of anger and regret, and partly because he didn't want any written proof to link him to the bargain,” the white-haired physician said, his voice seeming to tremble with age. “He forced me to retake my oath of silence, though he had no need. I would have kept silent till death, had you not asked me to tell the truth, Sire.”

Arthur nodded to both Gaius and Amena. “I thank you both for holding to your vow, but also for having the courage to speak the truth now for the sake of Camelot.”

“What good does such a truth do for Camelot?” Avebury sneered.

“We know now that Uther waged war against all sorcery for a very personal and, some might say, misguided cause,” Arthur retorted. “Not only that, but the present King of Camelot was born of magic and his life was saved by magic. Unless you object to my Kingship, Avebury, and be careful how you reply for you have taken an oath to uphold me as your King, surely you must admit that not all magic is evil?”

“Yet your half-sister was a High Priestess of the Old Religion and she spent the last few years using sorcery to try to kill you. I'm told she successfully invaded Camelot twice. Did she have any right to the throne and did she treat the people of this kingdom with justice and honour?”

“Since you are so well informed, I assume you already know the answer to both these questions. However, because some sorcerers are evil, it does not follow that all are so,” Arthur replied, fighting to retain his calm. “In fact, as I have already stated a number of times, were it not for a good and powerful warlock, I would have lost both my throne and my life, as would a great many others. I refuse to quarrel with you, Lord Avebury. I called the Grand Council to debate the issue, and I believe you will have the opportunity to bring up all your issues in the days to come, as will everyone who has the right and is present.”

From the back of the crowd there came a shout, the voice rustic. “Aye! Why don't you shut up, Lord Avebury. We want to hear what them others have to say.”

Arthur hid a smile, glad that someone else shared his annoyance, before deliberately turning his attention away from Avebury and speaking to the others in the hall and outside on the balcony. “We have listened to some very strong objections to the re-introduction of magic to our land, now I think it only fair we hear the other side of the argument.” Arthur stepped aside, and in a gesture some would consider extraordinary, be gave a small bow and waved Merlin forward. “Merlin, I believe you are the expert on the subject.”

Moving to the front of the dais, Merlin took a few deep calming breaths. For years he'd dreamt of the day when his magic would be recognised, but, somehow, he'd never envisioned standing in front of a large amount of Camelot's population and confessing to being a warlock. Arthur and he had deliberated for long on their tactics and reached the conclusion he was the best person to explain magic, but, now the moment had arrived, he began to doubt their sanity. Arthur was the one used to giving speeches; he was more suited to acting behind the scenes. Perhaps he'd have been more comfortable facing the public as grumpy, old Dragoon... yet those days of subterfuge were over.

With a side glance at Arthur, who gave him an encouraging nod, Merlin began to speak.

“People of Albion, many of you will have known me for a long time as King Arthur's servant, and that I have been proud to be, but I am more than that. I am a warlock. I was born with magic. I was never taught by other sorcerers or members of the Old Religion. Magic was something I could always do, since I was a very young child. Even when I did not understand how or why I could perform such actions, I was able to prevent accidents by simply thinking obstacles aside. I would use magic to play games too, until my mother impressed on me that exposing myself as a child of magic was dangerous and might lead to my death. Because of her fear, she chose to send me to Gaius to learn how to control my gifts.” 

Merlin cast a glance over the throng, trying to judge how his confession was being received. Some people were mesmerised, most seemed to be reserving their judgement, while there were those who looked on with utter disapproval. Avebury was almost incandescent with rage. His eyes bored into Merlin like daggers, and his reddened face appeared fit to burst, yet he was keeping silent, probably because Arthur had ordered him not to interrupt again on pain of expulsion.

“Being in Camelot and meeting Arthur was not only my destiny but my pleasure, though perhaps in the early days, I did not see it that way.” He exchanged a fleeting smile with Arthur. “I have refined my skills as I've grown older, and I am more proficient than the day I arrived in Camelot. Yet never once, before coming here and in the years I've spent in Arthur's service, have I used my magic for my own ends or for evil...”

Avebury kicked the ankle of the man standing next to him, who jumped in surprise before throwing a question at Merlin. “Are you saying you've never killed anyone? We've just been told you slew hundreds at Camlann!”

“Hundreds of Saxons, who would have wiped us out, if Merlin hadn't been there!” Percival could no longer keep silent.

“Sir Percival is correct, Sir Eghan,” Arthur added, marking the knight as one of Avebury's cronies. “Perhaps if you'd come on time to the battle, you might have used your sword to kill some ten or twenty of our enemies, and you would be called a hero. Merlin used the weapons he was born with, so where is the difference?”

“There is no difference,” Merlin said, redirecting attention back to himself. “There is no evil in sorcery, only in the hearts of men. I can't deny there have been sorcerers who used their gifts wickedly, though many were driven to evil to avenge their loved ones. If you try to eradicate a race of people because you have a pathological hatred for their kind, one day, some of those people will turn on you. King Uther's time is over, and Arthur bears no such grudge. Arthur prosecuted only those with magic who committed treason against his kingdom. We do not seek to abolish that law, only amend it. Besides, magic itself can be used for the good of all, and we wish to encourage that use. If anyone is still afraid of magic, be assured that those sorcerers who do not conform to Camelot's decrees will still be outlawed.”

“And who will decide which sorcerers are using magic wrongly?” Avebury asked, worrying the question like a dog with a bone.

Merlin would have dearly liked to throw a thunder bolt at the querulous lord, yet it behove him to remain composed for the sake of the future return of magic. “Lord Avebury, since The Grand Council has been called to debate whether the laws on magic should be changed, I feel it would be presumptuous of me to answer that particular question at present. However, I should imagine that if a magic user commits a crime, he or she will face the courts as does any other felon.”

“But what if the sorcerer is too powerful?” Sir Eghan questioned, without a prompt this time. 

Sir Leon took a step forward to answer, steel underlying his soft voice. “For twenty years King Uther had little difficulty imprisoning and executing sorcerers. Camelot is just as secure under King Arthur. In fact, the people of Camelot have prospered during his rule.” At Leon's words, there was a murmur of agreement, and he paused for a few minutes to allow the hall to quieten again. “I am not totally convinced that magic should be allowed free rein in Camelot, yet I trust King Arthur and Adviser Merlin and I'm prepared to listen to their proposals. I think we should all do the same.” 

“Well said, Sir Leon!” Arthur took centre stage again. “But I fear we have all heard enough talk for today. If anyone who wishes to air their views but have still to register their names, I suggest you do so now, but this session is closed. We will convene tomorrow, one hour after noon.”

Arthur took Guinevere's hand and marched quickly from the hall, looking neither left nor right, giving no one a chance to intercept them, and not until they reached their chambers did he relax his guard.

“Guinevere, I'm sorry, but we are dining in here tonight. I cannot face another argument, and I'm sure Lord Avebury will make sure there is one.” A deep frown wrinkled his brow as he threw himself down in his chair.

“Are you feeling unwell, Arthur?” Guinevere asked, hesitantly, remembering his outburst of earlier when he'd bridled at the yoke of people's concern over his health.

“It's not what you're thinking, Guinevere. I'm sick of hearing about my father's actions. No one knows more than I that an heir is important, but how could he have taken such a risk with the health of my mother, who he professed to love? Not to mention that he blatantly lied to me when I discovered the truth from Morgause.” At that, his head lifted and he pointed an accusing finger at Merlin. “You told me she lied! That she had conjured my mother to tell me her version of events to drive a wedge between myself and my father. Why did you lie to me too?”

Merlin looked askance, knowing himself to be on very shaky ground. He walked forward, wondering how often Arthur would accept the excuse he had lied to protect him and Camelot. “I didn't know for certain, but I did think there might be a little truth in what the spirit of your mother said. I was sure Morgause was trying to manipulate you into killing your father, and I knew that would have destroyed you. I couldn't let that happen.”

It seemed Merlin was about to discover the answer there and then, because Arthur pushed himself out of his chair and stalked to the window, his hand fisting on the glass. “Damn it! What gives everyone the right to imagine they can decide what's best for me. I had a right to know!” He swung to confront the people in the room, his eyes blazing. “I'm presuming that Gaius told you the truth, Merlin, so why not me? It was my birth you were talking about. I had a right to know!”

“What difference would it have made, Arthur? Once your anger was spent, would you really have killed your father?” Merlin asked, approaching his monarch warily, his skin as pale as Arthur's.

There was a long pause, while Arthur clenched one hand within the other. He couldn't deny that committing patricide would have torn him apart, but he wasn't prepared to let go his disappointment at being kept in the dark. “No! Probably not. But I might have left Camelot...”

“Would that have made you happy?”

“You know it wouldn't. Camelot means more to me than anything, except for yourself and Guinevere. But, Merlin, I might not have followed my father's decrees on magic so blindly had I known. I could have saved innocent people...”

“And what do you think your father would have done had you gone against his laws on magic?” Guinevere stepped forward to ask, her heart breaking for her husband.

“I doubt he would have killed me... Banished me probably. After all, he disinherited me in favour of Katrina.”

“Arthur, he was enchanted at the time.” His wife had reached his side and slipped her hand over his, massaging his tensed knuckles. “In his own way, he loved you. Remember, he gave his life trying to protect you, and I believe, in that last year, his conscience troubled him.”

Time seemed frozen, as a myriad of emotions chased themselves across Arthur's face, mirroring his confused thoughts.

“You're right, Guinevere. I can never forget he died for me. Yet I don't think his conscience troubled him over much.” A derisive laugh broke through Arthur's anger. “When I recalled his spirit from the afterlife using the Horn of Cathbhadh, he attempted to kill you, knowing how much it would hurt me. Ye gods, he knocked me out and might have done more when I refused to do his bidding. I cannot deny my feelings for him, but my father was flawed, and I could have done something about it sooner, if only I'd known.”

“What kind of something?” Merlin asked, relieved that Gwen had defused the worst of Arthur's ire. “A disagreement with Uther would have rent Camelot in two and would have given Morgana a stronger hand to take over the kingdom.”

“Or perhaps I could have saved Morgana from falling under Morgause's influence.”

“We'll never know.” Guinevere shook her head sadly. “And we cannot change the past no matter how much we may want to.” Gwen reached out a hand to Merlin, beckoning him nearer. “What is more, you two must not be estranged. With hindsight, there are always things we wish we could have done differently, but none of us is perfect and we make mistakes. You both have to learn to live with these mistakes, or Camelot's chance of peace is lost.”

“That's true, Arthur. I am sorry I lied to you for so long about so many things, but a lot of the time I had no idea what to do. I was living on a knife edge...”

“Say no more, Merlin,” Arthur conceded wearily, accepting that he would always feel contradictory about Uther. “I can only imagine how difficult your life must have been when my father was alive, and I already know I didn't always make things easy for you either. We've had this conversation before and it's pointless. Guinevere is right about burying the past and concentrating on the future, and I'm sorry for losing my temper. But I still can't go down there to dinner.” He returned to his chair. “Though I need to know what's happening between the nobles. Guinevere, will you stand in for me? Perhaps Merlin will accompany you. Make whatever excuses you think appropriate, but keep your eyes and ears open. Avebury is the chief protagonist, but he will have associates. Besides, I have a feeling there is more behind his objections than a hatred of magic. He wasn't even here in Camelot for most of my father's reign.”

“So you feel it too, Arthur?” Merlin cocked his head and studied his king.

“Clearly I've spent too long in your company, my friend.” Arthur gave a tiny smirk. “Your funny feelings are beginning to rub off on me. But yes. I do not trust Avebury, and with that in mind, could you send Leon to me? He can keep me company during dinner, and you won't have to worry about me being alone.”

*****

“You wanted to see me, Sire?” Leon stated as he entered the royal chambers.

Arthur looked up from his seat at the table where he was pouring out two goblets of wine. “I did, Leon. Come... come. Sit yourself down.” He indicated the chair next to him at the table which was set for dinner. “I had George serve me dinner up here and I thought you could keep me company. Please, eat with me.”

“Are you feeling unwell, Sire, that you've chosen to dine in private, and wouldn't Queen Guinevere or Merlin be more suitable companions?”

A grimace of annoyance crossed Arthur's countenance, though quickly hidden. “I'm not sick, Leon, though I admit I couldn't face the knowing looks and snide remarks which are probably being thrown around in the dinning hall tonight regarding today's revelations. That has been hard enough already...”

“Sire, I think you're misjudging. Most of the people are sympathetic of your... position,” Leon finished lamely, not knowing quite how to describe the conditions surrounding The King's conception.

“Some, perhaps. But some, like your uncle, were shocked, angry... even revelling in my discomfort and, I imagine, are now scheming on how they can turn this knowledge to their advantage.”

“My Lord, I must apologise for my uncle's behaviour...”

“Why?” Arthur cut in, his voice hard edged. “You are not responsible for his actions, no more than was I responsible for Agravaine's.” For some seconds, he was lost in thought, then he added more reasonably. “If life has taught me anything, it is that the people we ought to be able to trust aren't always the most trustworthy. And, Leon, will you stop using my titles. We've known each other for years. Just because Avebury is making my life difficult, doesn't change our friendship.”

“Nor my doubts about magic?” Leon couldn't help but ask again.

“No! Though for someone who is ambivalent towards magic, you backed Merlin and me in the hall today, and for that I thank you.”

A blush coloured Leon's pale face. “Avebury was out of line, and I'll always do my best to protect you and Merlin from any attacks. Besides, if the choice is between my uncle and his friends and yourself and Merlin, then there is no contest. My allegiance is with you, Arthur.”

“But that shouldn't be the subject of the debate, and I don't want it to develop into a war between factions,” Arthur said more in hope than in certainty. “I'm sorry. I sent Guinevere and Merlin to the hall for three reasons. The first, because I need them to keep an eye on what is happening; the second because they fuss too much over my health and the third... I wanted to question you about Avebury, which I now realise is unfair. I shouldn't put you in the position of spying on your relative.” Arthur took a sip of his wine and lifted his cutlery. “But that doesn't mean we can't enjoy a meal together. Please stay, Leon. I'd prefer not to eat alone.”

Musing that his Uncle Brennan had no such scruples about spying, Leon pulled up a chair. “Thank you, Arthur.” He smiled and began to eat. 

There was silence as both men satisfied their appetites, though it had to be said that Leon ate more heartily than his king. He watched Arthur from the corner of his eye and was disappointed to see him push his plate away when he was only half finished. The King's head was down.

“There isn't much I know about my uncle,” Leon blurted out and saw Arthur's keen eyes rise to meet his own. “He left when I was a young child and I never met him again until my grandfather's funeral, when he returned home to inherit the leadership of our house.” Leon also put down his knife and fork. “I never heard the true story, but I think my grandfather quarrelled with Brennan and he walked out. As you know, he spent most of his life fighting overseas, and accruing a fortune, if what I've been told is correct.”

“He does appear to be incredibly rich, if his raiment is anything to go by,” Arthur agreed. “But did he never try to mend the disagreement between himself and his father?”

“I think he might have revisited our home some time after my father died. I never knew for sure, but I do know he didn't stay.” Leon settled back in his chair and gazed blankly at the ceiling. “I remember because my grandfather went around like a bear with a sore head for weeks and, according to castle gossip, it was because my uncle had paid a flying visit. Brennan might have wanted to make peace with the old man since my father had died, but it didn't work out. From all accounts they were both too stubborn for their own good.”

“And you never knew what lay behind their feud?” Arthur's head shook sadly from side to side as he contemplated what could possibly divide a family so irrevocably. 

“Only hearsay... but I will tell you what I know, if it will help,” Leon finally said.

Again, Arthur shook his head, only this time with more force. “I'll not coerce you, Leon. Just as I will never demand that you follow me where you have no wish to go.”

“I understand, Arthur. It's why I do follow you,” Leon replied with a slightly droll grin. “This all happened such a long time ago, when I was a still a babe, and it was never spoken of afterwards... well, only in whispers by the servants. But from what I could glean, the disagreement took place while Uther was fighting for the throne of Camelot.” Placing his elbows on the table, Leon studied his hands; hands which were calloused and scarred in the service of this man beside him. “As you know, my grandfather was one of your father's staunchest supporters, yet for some reason Brennan didn't follow his father. There was a huge argument, and though my uncle never openly opposed Uther's claim, when Uther was crowned he did leave Albion; took ship over The Narrow Sea, and was never heard from again for many years. My grandfather refused anyone in the household to speak his name and it was like my father became his only son.”

“And yet when your grandfather died, he did return, assumed his title, and swore his allegiance to me,” Arthur said thoughtfully. “I doubt it was out of love for me or the Pendragons.”

“Perhaps he just missed his homeland as he grew older. People do change, Arthur,” Leon pointed out.

Suddenly, Arthur pushed against the arms of his chair and stood. “I'm sure you're right,” he echoed Leon's sentiments, though his mind was racing. He had seen enmity in Brennan's eyes, and not only for sorcery. Yet without evidence, he would not slander his First Knight's kinsman. “Thank you, Leon, for your candour and for your company, but I find I am tired. I think I'm for bed.”

“Of course, Sire.” Leon gave a tiny bow as he backed towards the door. “Would you like me to send George to you. I believe Merlin will still be busy at the state banquet.”

Once more, Arthur gave a humourless laugh. “Why does everyone assume I cannot dress or undress myself. It's not like I'm wearing chain-mail...” His voice tailed off , wistfully. Arthur was finding coping with this... this disability harder than he ever thought possible.

“Good night, Arthur,” Leon said as he left, yet the knight suspected this would be anything but a good night for his king and friend.

 

*****

 

When Guinevere returned to their chambers later in the night, she was surprised to find the room in semi-darkness, Arthur in bed, though not asleep. By the light of a couple of candles, she stood still, studying her husband. Her heart ached to see him chewing, subconsciously, on the nail of his right hand thumb. Quietly, she took a taper and lit the candles which stood on a side table.

The extra brightness alerted Arthur to her presence. “Guinevere!” he called, forcing a smile, while immediately hiding his bitten hand beneath the coverlet. He sat up in the bed. “Is dinner over?”

“Finally,” she answered, crossing the room to sit by his side. “It seemed interminable. Thank goodness for Amena and Cedric... and Geoffrey. I never realised he could be such a support, and he was kind enough to bring Mary to sit with us at the top table.”

“Poor Mary, if she had to put up with people like Avebury,” Arthur murmured, while not really suspecting the truth of his words. However, his wife's face was a picture which told a thousand tales. “Don't tell me she did? I would have thought better of Geoffrey...”

“It wasn't Geoffrey's fault. Avebury simply assumed his place at the top table was his by right and he sat in Geoffrey's seat while he was showing Mary to her chair. Poor Geoffrey had to squeeze in at the end.” Guinevere frowned, as she started to let her hair down, pulling out the jewelled pins which held it in place. “I'm sorry, but I cannot like that man, Arthur. Not only did he talk down to Mary, he had the audacity to treat me like I was still a servant... not to mention that he chose to ignore Merlin all evening.”

“Don't apologise. The man's arrogant and rude. It's a pity he doesn't have a brave and wise serving girl to put him in his place.” He stretched up to help loosen her curls, his fingers tangling in her dark tresses. Yet his mind was too troubled for romance. “I just wish I could call him a fool, but that would be underestimating him. He's dangerous. I'm certain he doesn't have Camelot's best interests at heart, Guinevere, and I want you to stay away from him. Merlin too!”

“Merlin can take care of himself. Have you forgotten he has magic?”

“No, and that's what I'm afraid of. If Avebury can, he'll bait Merlin into using magic inadvisedly, then he'll exploit that against us.” Arthur clasped both of Guinevere's hands, shaking them urgently. “Is Merlin in his chamber?”

“I think so. He escorted me to the door and bade me goodnight. It's late and I doubt he was going anywhere else.”

Quickly, Arthur threw back the coverlet and rose from his bed. “Guinevere, I'm sorry, but I must talk to Merlin... now.” Opening the closet, he pulled out his blue cloak, while the candle-light caught the sparkle of tears in Guinevere's dark eyes and Arthur was, at once, contrite. “This is important, but I promise I won't be long. Would you like me to send for your maid?”

The Queen stood by the bed, a forlorn figure. She couldn't explain the feeling of dread which threatened to overtake her. All she wanted was Arthur's comforting arms to surround her, but Guinevere was a Queen in more than name. She understood the importance of duty, and she would never lessen Arthur's sense of responsibility, so she forced a smile as she replied. “Yes, please. I think I need a hand with these braids.” She touched her hair which was now somewhere betwixt up and down. “And a warm bath might help to relax me.”

With his hand on the latch of the door, Arthur paused, knowing that to be an excuse. Guinevere hardly ever bothered the servants this late at night by having them bring up bath water. Something was troubling his wife, and he felt guilt tear at his throat as he had no time to comfort her. “Sounds like a good idea, and I happen to think your hair looks beautiful - all tumbling down. Who knows, if I'm quick, I might share your bath... but don't wait up,” he added, honesty winning out. 

He couldn't rid himself of the premonition his kingdom was in danger; his city and all those he loved. An enemy had thrown down the gauntlet and Arthur would accept the challenge.

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I'd love to thank readers who left a comment. It's also nice to know that the number of hits is increasing. I'm assuming this means people are reading this story. I'd be very sad to think that people are checking the story out and finding it not to their taste. I'm keeping my fingers crossed this isn't so, but I do understand everyone has their own likes and dislikes.
> 
> If you do have any time, I'd love to read your comments.


	16. Midnight Investigations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur are happy to find an old friend back in Camelot and glad that he's willing to help once more.  
> Then both friends get a scolding from Gwen before they all do a little brainstorming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time flies by so fast, and I almost forgot to post again. Here's my next offering. I had fun writing this character from the show, so I hope you approve of his joining this story. I'd be over the moon if you'd let me know how you feel.
> 
> Oh, and I don't own Merlin.

Chapter Sixteen  
Midnight Investigations 

As was his habit, Arthur was about to barge into Merlin's room when he stopped himself in mid-act. Merlin was now more than a servant and deserved some common courtesy. The King, however, could not restrain his impatience, so he wrapped loudly on the door, then without waiting for answer, he marched inside.

Only, the room was in darkness and Arthur's senses, honed on many a patrol in hostile country, told him it was also empty. 

“Damn you, Merlin! Why are you never where you're expected to be?” Arthur left the room, but he didn't return to his own chambers. Experience had taught him that Merlin was probably off investigating Avebury on his own. In fact, the idiot was probably stalking around the corridors in the dark, even now, spying on the one man who hated him with a passion which was, very probably, second only to Morgana's!

Logic told Arthur that Merlin was very capable of taking care of himself, but the emotional bond between Merlin and himself, which Arthur had only recently recognised fully, sent him chasing after his friend in full protective mode.

With that in mind, he went to talk to Geoffrey of Monmouth, who would probably know where in the castle Avebury was housed. He just hoped the old man hadn't already gone to bed.

A short time later, Arthur was prowling down one of the citadel's longest corridors in much the same way as he did while hunting an illusive prey in the forest. At least his strategy to ask Geoffrey had paid off; Avebury was lodged in Agravaine's old chambers, which seemed, strangely, appropriate. Hoping he wasn't too long behind Merlin, he hugged the shadows, quiet and listening, all his senses on full alert, but there was no sign of Merlin. Where was his stupid serv... adviser?

And why was he, The King, sneaking around in the dark in his own castle? He was King! If he ruled in Uther's autocratic manner, he would have called a council, announced that sorcery was no longer outlawed and anyone who objected would be banished or executed.

Then, maybe, he would be snuggled up in bed with his wife, discovering what was troubling her, and not wandering down draughty corridors in search of his foolhardy friend.

But he was not his father. He'd rather rule through consensus, not through fear, and, right now, he wished to discuss what he suspected about Avebury with his personal adviser, who just happened to have gone absent without leave!

For a fleeting second, it crossed his mind that Merlin might be simply visiting Gaius, but the hairs on the back of Arthur's neck warned him otherwise, and he knew from past experiences not to ignore that 'feeling'; something else he'd learned from Merlin.

Athur had searched the whole floor, listened at every chamber door and heard nothing, if you discounted coughing and snoring, and a couple making love; he'd felt envious at that. The one thing he hadn't heard was Avebury threatening Merlin.

Where the hell was Merlin?

Inspiration flashed into his mind. A long time ago, he'd caught Merlin spying on the troll with a mirror on a rope; no, correction, there hadn't been a rope. Merlin didn't need such mundane tools all the rest of them had to use. But Arthur had a good idea he'd sussed his warlock out, this time.

Stealthily, he backed towards the stairwell, almost tripping over a tapestry which covered an alcove, and just in case his first idea was wrong, he slowly slid the heavy material aside to check, but the space was empty.

Once upstairs, he counted down the rooms until he believed he was approximately above Avebury's lodgings, only it was slightly confusing, as these chambers were smaller than the ones below. However, he was guided by a muted glow coming from beneath the door he'd chosen. As all the other rooms seemed to be in darkness, this had to be the correct one. If it was, who was staying in this particular room, and why was Merlin not worried he would disturb the occupant? No doubt he'd put a sleeping spell on them! He'd have to talk to Merlin about not incommoding their guests.

Yet, when Arthur furtively let himself inside, he soon found he was wrong... not only was Merlin not disturbing this guest, but the tall lanky fellow seemed only too happy to aid him in his quest.

“Merlin, what are you doing?” Arthur whispered, creeping up behind the two. “No, don't tell me, I know. You're spying on Avebury.”

Fortunately, his friend appeared more in control of his spells these days; though Merlin was startled, he didn't drop the mirror. His partner in crime, however, almost jumped out of his skin.

Merlin's eyes glowed gold for a fleeting second, and the mirror floated back into the room, landing in the warlock's hands as he turned to confront his king. “What are you doing here?” he demanded in a whispered squeak. “You're supposed to be asleep. Gaius gave you a sleeping draught.”

“Which I didn't take,” Arthur huffed, ignoring the stranger by the window as he confronted Merlin. “You and Gaius are going to have to stop slipping me sedatives. You might not have noticed, but we are in a battle here, and though there are no Saxons and no swords, it is just as crucial and I need to remain alert... at all times,” he added before Merlin could get out his excuse. “I wanted to speak to you, and I wouldn't have to be skulking around the castle, if you'd been where you were supposed to be.”

This time, Merlin had the grace to look a little sheepish. “Sorry about that, but I couldn't resist the chance of checking up on Avebury; not when I found out who was living in the room above. Look, Arthur...” Merlin pointed to his side, drawing Arthur's attention to the tall, slim man who was looking a little flustered.

“Your Graciousness... Sire,” the stranger stuttered, as he bowed low.

“You probably don't remember him.” Merlin was about to introduce the man when Arthur interrupted.

“William of Deira! What are you doing here?” Arthur asked, taking the man's hand and shaking it heartily. “This is a... surprise.” He was about to say 'shock', but tempered his words, not wishing to appear rude. After all, William had helped him out many years ago, when he'd been an insecure prince, trying to find his place in a world he would one day rule.

He'd embarked on a madcap scheme (probably one of many) to prove his worth, which had eventually worked out well, though completely differently to how he'd planned, thanks to the two people he'd come to love most in the world... Guinevere and Merlin.

It was the time he had first learned of Guinevere's true worth, when she'd had the courage to stand up to him and tell him his arrogant behaviour was unacceptable. Her anger had taken him aback, yet it seemed as if someone, other than Merlin, was actually telling him the truth for his own good, and he'd appreciated her candour... began to love her because of it.

Then Merlin had uncovered an assassin, sent by King Odin, and kept him safe, no doubt with the use of magic. The list of questions he wanted to ask his friend grew longer by the minute, but they didn't have the luxury of time for a protracted stroll down memory lane. He was beginning to doubt they ever would, and he might as well simply accept that Merlin had saved his life on a frequent basis.

Meanwhile, a nervous William was shuffling from foot to foot, and Merlin cut in again, eager to calm the man's anxiety. “I was as surprised as you. Seems William heard the call about commoners being invited to the council and he came to see if we needed help again. Our William is head man of his village.”

Now that Arthur was becoming accustomed to the gloom, he stepped back to view William, noticing, for the first time, that he was no longer the skinny, dishevelled farm boy, who Merlin had found in Arthur's hour of need. In fact, his clothes, though of rough homespun, were clean and tidy and his hair was trimmed.

“William, you're looking good.” Arthur shook the man's hand again. “I'm glad to hear you've done well for yourself, and that you've volunteered your aid again.” The King looked round the room and saw a single chair by a small table and a stool by the wall. “Come on, let us all sit down and you can tell us how you've been faring.”

Arthur, automatically, took the chair, causing his friend to grin wryly. There were just some things about Arthur that would never change... and he didn't really want them to. Merlin sat on the stool, while Arthur beckoned William to sit on his narrow bed.

When they were all comfortable, though comfortable might not be the word to describe William's state of mind, Arthur began.

“So, tell us, William. How you've managed to come up in the world?”

William cleared his throat. “It was thanks to you, Sire, and Lord Merlin, and The Queen, of course. I know I was just pretending to be a knight, back then, but you made me see that I could be more than a simple peasant. You taught me I could maybe be somebody... not like you, Sire, but someone I would be proud to be.” William grew in confidence as he recounted his story. “And the money you gave me helped a lot too. When I got back to the farm, my da was right glad of the silver, though he thought I'd been thieving, at first. But my ma said I didn't have the brains to be a thief. At least, not one that wouldn't get caught.”

As Arthur and Merlin smiled at their guest's lack of guile, William went on. “Anyway, I started to work harder on the farm. I used the money to buy some new livestock and I started to look into which crops grew better and why they did. My ma and da were proud of me, but, I can tell you, the other villagers thought I was touched in the head... but when I started getting good results, they soon came around. Some even copied me and asked me for advice, and the village did well; grew into a bit of a town, though it's not a place like Camelot. You probably wouldn't think much of it.”

“Don't belittle yourself, William,” Arthur said with a great deal of feeling. “Seems to me I'd be proud of your accomplishments too. It's not that I paid you a lot of money for your services, and yet you've done a lot with it.”

“It might not have been much to you, Sire, but it was a fortune to the likes of me.”

“It is what you did with the money that made the difference, Will,” Merlin said, using the familiar name of his long dead friend, then lightened the atmosphere by asking a more personal question. “Did you ever get married?”

“Yes, I did, and to the prettiest girl in the village.” William smiled at the thought of his family, getting over his shock that here he was having a conversation with The King and The Emrys. “Her father owns the tavern, so she was a bit of a catch. Now we have three children... all girls, but then you can't have everything, and Maeve swears she'll give me sons to help around the farm yet.”

“Nothing wrong with girls, William,” Arthur offered, sounding wistful. “At least you have children.”

There was a definite lull in the conversation, causing Merlin to change the subject. “So when did you become headman?”

“A year or two ago. The last village elder died without leaving anyone to take his place, so they offered it to me. I know it should have been my father, but he said he was too old...”

The King acknowledged, internally, that his own fate might be very similar to that of the former elder, but he roused himself from his dark thoughts. “I'm happy for you, William, but it is getting very late, and we should leave you to get some sleep.” Arthur used the arms of the chair to push himself erect. He was getting tired... tired and sore. Perhaps he might take that sleeping draft after all, but first he had to talk to Merlin and discuss what they'd both discovered about Avebury this night. “Oh, and William, thank you for helping Merlin out, but please, this escapade has got to remain secret.”

“Yes, Sire. Of course. I'd never do anything to harm you or Merlin... and if there is anything I can do to help again, I will.”

That brought Arthur up short. “Be careful, William. I suspect that Avebury is a very dangerous man, so don't you be getting yourself killed in my service. Maeve and your girls need you back home, as does your town. If you do come across anything suspicious, you come to me or Merlin. I'll inform the guards that William of Deira is to have full access to both of us, or Sir Leon if we're not available. No, make that Sir Percival. William, this is important. You find anything, you bring it to us, or Percival... no other.”

“Yes, Sire,” William nodded. “You two, or Sir Percival. You have my word.”

Arthur and Merlin wished Will goodnight and, quietly, threaded the corridors back to their own wing of the castle.

“What was that all about with Sir Leon?” Merlin asked, his brow wrinkled in thought.

Putting his finger to his lips, Arthur replied in a whisper. “Wait till we are safe in your chamber.”

 

*****

 

The midnight hour and the extinguishing of most of the torches cast dark shadows throughout the citadel's passageways, causing monstrous shapes to flicker across the stone walls. Arthur was reminded of numerous pranks he and Kay had undertaken when they were young children, venturing from their rooms in the summer nights to go gathering frogs or hunting foxes, returning in the late hours and stealing down these same corridors, hoping not to be caught, trying not to fear the strange monsters which seemed to inhabit their home in the dead of night.

Arthur gave a quiet laugh at his reminisces as they turned down the final hallway to his chambers, then stifled it when passing his own door.

“What's so funny?”

Merlin's whispered question came at him, which he quickly hushed, but it was already too late. The door of the royal solar opened a crack and Guinevere squeezed outside.

“Where have you been... and where do you think you're going?” she demanded, clearly understanding from their position that neither her husband nor her friend were intending to enter the royal apartments.

Giving the guards at either side of his door a quick glance, Arthur changed his destination and opened his door further, but before entering, he addressed his men. “Not a word of this to anyone,” he said, stressing his command with a stab of his finger in the air.

“Nothing to tell, Sire,” the older guard commented, still staring straight ahead.

“Good man!” The King gave a quick smile then pulled Merlin inside, before turning to Guinevere. “My love, I told you not to wait up!”

With a frown marring her clear brow, Guinevere followed them into the candle-lit room.

“How do you expect me to sleep, while you are off stalking the castle, intent on getting into mischief when you're recovering from a serious injury? Arthur, I've just got you back!” Guinevere's voice rose, approaching hysteria, and Arthur took a moment or two to sooth her.

“Guine... vere.” His voice drew out her name, caressing it as only he could. “I'm fine. No harm can come to me here in the castle. There are guards on every corner, and Merlin can cast a spell to knock any enemy out. I'm as safe as I've ever been, and I don't have to lift a sword... and you don't have to worry.”

“You went to talk to Merlin, but that was ages ago!” Gwen was too uptight to let the matter drop immediately.

“I did, but Merlin wasn't in his room. He was skulking about the palace again...”

“I wouldn't call it skulking,” Merlin objected, hitching his robe up while crossing to sit at the table. “I was... investigating.”

“So was I!” Arthur cut in, “And I wanted to talk to you about it, but you'd gone walk about, practising some of your hocus-pocus with mirrors to spy on Avebury with William of Deira!”

“William of Deira is here?” Gwen asked with a smile, sitting at the table with Merlin; her memories of that far off time lifting her spirits.

“Yes, Gwen. He's done really well for himself. He's headman of his village now,” Merlin answered, totally ignoring his king who was growing slightly white faced with frustration. “Even got married and has children. I think we inspired him.”

“That's lovely. I'd like to meet him again.”

Striding to the table and gazing down at his smiling wife and adviser, Arthur said somewhat surly. “And so you shall, Guinevere, but much as I hate to interrupt yours and Merlin's reminiscences, we have important findings to discuss.”

A candle guttered in its sconce, making the room seem gloomier. Momentarily, Merlin's eyes glowed golden and the flame revived, while he also lit the brace of candles on the table. 

“Thank you, Merlin,” Arthur said, still a little in awe of Merlin's use of magic for simple tasks. “You really are a handy person to have around, and you're much less clumsy as a magician than you were a servant.”

“Don't mention it.” Merlin smirked and nodded his head in acceptance. “I'll take that as a compliment, I think. Now sit down and tell me what you've got against Leon.”

Arthur bridled, unable to rid himself of the feeling, ungrateful though he knew it to be, that his life was being taken over by nursemaids. “I'll sit down when I feel like it... and I haven't got anything against Leon.”

“Yet you asked William to report to Percival?” 

“Only because I don't want to put Leon in the unenviable position of acting against his uncle!”

Guinevere looked confused. “But Arthur, you said everyone has a right to their own opinion. I know Lord Avebury has been impolite and arrogant, but surely he has a right to speak out against magic,” Guinevere said, striving to remain fair.

“He does! I meant what I said when I encouraged people to air their views. Though I might take issue with Avebury's manner, he is at liberty to speak up... if I could be sure that was his only motive.”

Arthur leaned forward, placing his hands flat on the table and allowing his arms to take his weight. The flickering light highlighted the shadows beneath his eyes, yet he would not give in to his weakness.

Guinevere resisted her natural instinct to comfort him, knowing he was a king first and her husband second, for the present. Instead she offered him a sounding board. “But surely the Avebury family have been Pendragon supporters for a long time, and Sir Leon is your first knight.”

“I don't doubt Leon's loyalty, or his friendship, and I'm aware that Leon's grandfather helped my father in his battle to become king. He was also a staunch supporter of Uther's stand against sorcery.” Arthur straightened and walked round to his chair, lowering himself into it stiffly, while both his wife and friend noticed a new chill in his voice when he spoke his father's name.

“But you believe the present Lord Avebury might not be so loyal?” Guinevere asked wearily, hoping against hope that no other enemy was plotting the downfall of Arthur and Camelot. The kingdom needed a time of peace... they all did.

“Seems not! I spoke with Leon tonight, asked him about his uncle...” Arthur dropped his head into his hands.

“And?” Merlin prompted, then added when a moment of silence stretched out. “That can't have been easy, interrogating your friend.”

Arthur's head came up. “I didn't interrogate him... at least, I hope Leon didn't take it that way, and no, Merlin, I didn't enjoy questioning a friend. But I did learn something. It's not much, exactly, but I think Brennan Avebury quarrelled with his father because he didn't back The Pendragons. Of course, Leon has only heard servants' gossip, but when my father was crowned, Brennan left Albion, and the break with his family must have been a deep one because it was never bridged.”

“That's not a lot to go on, Arthur,” Merlin stated, playing devil's advocate. “He did return eventually and pledge his allegiance to you.”

“But only when his father died, and if he wanted to claim his inheritance, he had no choice but to return and take his oath, though...” Arthur's voice was silenced by a rasping cough, scaring his listeners, who exchanged troubled glances, though they dared not comment. He cleared his throat and began again. “Though you'll notice, since the day he made that vow, he has never visited the court. Nor did he send the men he had pledged to me, when I sent out the general muster for Camlann.”

“Yet he was the first to arrive for The Grand Council,” Guinevere reminded them, valiantly maintaining her stoic resolve not to fuss over Arthur's health. “Though isn't Avebury's land quite a distance from Camelot?”

“It is!” Arthur turned to Guinevere with a quick smile. “By rights, he shouldn't have had time to receive the summons and travel to Camelot before the opening ceremony.”

“Unless he was answering the muster,” Merlin offered reflectively. “He arrived with quite an entourage.”

The King frowned, running Merlin's reasoning through his mind. “You don't really believe that, Merlin. Do you?”

“No.” Merlin shook his head emphatically. “He knew the muster was at Camlann... everyone did, and since Camlann is nearer to his home, he had the time and opportunity to reach the battle site.”

“Exactly!” Arthur crowed just a little. “So why arrive in Camelot with a large troop of men?”

“Marauding Saxons?” Guinevere took her turn as sounding board.

“The Saxons fled east; Avebury came from the south west.” Arthur bit down on his thumb again, a habit he had developed of late when he was deep in thought. “And I'm assuming you sent out news of our victory, Guinevere?”

“Sir Leon did. Almost immediately. At the same time as he sent the patrols out searching for you,” The Queen of Camelot assured her husband that duty had been done. “He didn't mention meeting his uncle, though he did tell me of all the people he'd questioned about your whereabouts.”

While Arthur remained contemplative, Merlin spoke. “Then the chances are Leon didn't encounter Lord Avebury on the road, so where was he?”

“Hiding. Lying in wait... but for what?” The air in the room hung heavily with conjecture, until Arthur voiced the suspicion in all their minds. “Was he waiting for Camelot to become so disorganised without a head of state to seize the kingdom for himself?”

“But surely Avebury has no claim to the throne?” Guinevere stated, her hand reaching out to catch Arthur's before he chewed his knuckle to the bone.

“Uther took the crown by force, but he was directly linked by blood to Bruta.” Arthur reviewed his history, the facts and not Merlin's fairy tales. “As far as I know, the House of Avebury has no such connection, and I doubt he could rustle up enough allies to place him on the throne.” 

“Certainly not when you returned from the dead,” Merlin agreed with a harsh laugh. “If he does have ambitions, that must have come as a nasty shock. It would explain why he looks at both of us with such loathing, when he thinks we don't notice.”

Arthur moved to punch Merlin's arm, but he quickly changed his customary action to squeezing his friend's shoulder. “You're onto something there! At first, I thought it was just his enmity towards magic, but it seems more personal than that.” Abruptly, he stood up and started pacing. “But this is merely conjecture and gut feelings. We cannot act without proof. Merlin, did your spying tonight uncover anything substantial?”

“He invited a few of the nobles back to his chamber for a nightcap. I've got a list of the names, particularly those who agreed with him wholeheartedly, but there was nothing discussed which was outside the law.”

When Arthur looked crestfallen, Merlin threw in a little titbit of information. “He keeps two ravens in cages in his room.”

“Messengers?” Gwen enquired, her brows drawn together in distaste as she remembered Eira. “I know we've had bad experiences with traitors sending word to our enemies, but does keeping ravens make him a bad person?”

“Not in itself,” Arthur admitted, grudgingly, as he stopped by Gwen's shoulder. “And I suppose he could have a completely innocent reason, but if he is sending messages, I would give my right arm to intercept them, and to find out who the recipient might be.”

Merlin's eyes twinkled mischievously. “I think I might be able to help you with that, and William is going to keep watch.”

“But I don't want him putting himself in danger. Even if what we suspect about Avebury isn't true, I doubt he would be much troubled by harming a commoner who got in his way,” Arthur growled, stretching his spine. “Avebury doesn't understand that I hold every one of my people in high regard, noble and commoner alike. I promise you this; if he is plotting against Camelot, I will take him down, no matter what the consequences.”

Gwen and Merlin were stricken with dismay at Arthur's word's, yet their fears were somewhat smoothed as The King's fighting talk was stifled by a yawn, though he tried to hide it.

At once, Guinevere rose, bending to snuff out the candles on the table. “Come on, Arthur,” she said in her most persuasive voice, taking his hand. “I think we've done what we can for tonight, and I'm tired. We should get some sleep.”

The Queen's words closed their clandestine meeting and the royal couple went to bed, unfortunately, with troubled thoughts disturbing their peace.

But for Merlin there was no immediate rest. He had a spell to weave over Avebury's ravens, plus he wanted to check on Morgana; make sure the High Priestess wasn't brewing up more trouble. He was aware Iseldir had her under his control, but he couldn't help but assume responsibility for thwarting Morgana's plan... if indeed she had one.

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you so much for those guests who have left Kudos.
> 
> I really must say a special thank you to Annie for her loyal commenting. You've been with me since the first chapter and I think you're wonderful. All your questions will be answered, but I don't want to give away spoilers.
> 
> However, I was inspired to write this story to ammend the heart-rending end we got from the show.


	17. Confronting The Witch... or Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long awaited non-maigcal showdown between Merlin and Morgana. Can Merlin discover her motives for returning to Camelot and is she telling the truth?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm a day late in posting this. I had a very busy Saturday wrestling with a computer which almost won. I developed a doozy of a headache later in the day so went to bed. Please forgive my tardiness. Hopefully you'll enjoy today's chapter.

Chapter Seventeen  
Confronting the Witch... Or Not

With feigned patience, Merlin waited in the brightly torch-lit antechamber while the jailer unlocked Morgana's cell. Outside, the night was at its darkest, the citadel at its quietest as the hour of the change of the guard fast approached. The sentries would soon be relieved, and they were grateful. Though the men knew of the importance of their mission, they were bored and tired, standing for hours in the one spot with little to do.

The soldier's cramped fingers fumbled with the key, causing Merlin to stifle a groan, but he resisted the temptation to open the door with magic. He still wasn't comfortable using magic in front of people with whom he was hardly acquainted, and if Morgana had genuinely forgotten she had magic, he didn't want to remind her. 

Finally, the door was opened and Merlin stepped inside, passing under Iseldir's straw manikin, while checking its magic was still viable. The other guard lit the torches on the wall either side of the door, casting a flickering light over the sparsely furnished room. Nevertheless, the accommodation was very likely a great improvement on anything The High Priestess would have offered her enemies. 

Nodding his thanks to the soldiers, Merlin motioned for the door to be locked behind him. He walked further into the room, standing quietly, absorbing the atmosphere, yet he could find no sense of threat. However, he realised that the silent figure on the bed was not asleep, rather she had tensed at the sound of the opening door, her every nerve alert. Merlin decided there was no benefit in postponing what he had come for.

“I think we need to talk, Morgana.”

The slim woman swung immediately to the source of the voice, squinting in the wavering light. “Merlin! Oh, thank goodness it's you. Please tell me what's happening.” She pulled herself into a sitting position, tucking her legs beneath her. “I've asked the guards if I can have an audience with Arthur, but they ignore me completely. The only person I've seen is that grey-haired old man. I think he might be a Druid, but he only brings me food and asks me if I'm comfortable.” Her mouth twisted in distaste as she scanned the bare room. “How can I be comfortable here in this draughty tomb... and why won't Arthur talk to me?”

Merlin's every magical sensation was thrumming with apprehension, and all his wits were on high alert as he broached the conversation he should have had a long time ago with his adversary.

“It's simple. As we have already told you, Arthur won't see you because you've been trying your hardest to kill him for the past six years.”

Morgana's mouth dropped open in shock, regarding her old friend a little like he'd grown two heads. “Merlin, that's ridiculous. I thought you would tell the truth.” She rose from the bed, but it seemed her legs would not carry her as she stood rigidly still. “Last night, I didn't understand what any of you were talking about... and I still don't. Arthur is like a brother to me. I would never harm him.” She sank back to the coverlet again. “Why would I want to kill Arthur?”

“Because you tried to seize the crown, not once but three times, and, for some reason which I cannot work out, you hate him. Now, I understand why you turned on Uther, but Arthur never did you any harm... He would never have hurt you. He would have protected you, no matter what!”

“Merlin, that's insane! ” Morgana's hands covered her ears, not wanting to listen. “Why would you lie like this? Arthur's throne is not mine to take,” she declared, tears welling in her lovely eyes, spilling down her ivory cheekbones. “I too would protect Arthur with my life. You know I have done so. I don't understand why you don't believe me... I don't understand.”

Merlin used his magic to probe Morgana's aura, yet for all the trouble and torture she had subjected them to over the years, for the present, he could find no subterfuge in this broken woman. Was she a shade returned to haunt them, called back from beyond the veil by some unknown enemy to carry out some diabolical plan?

Shades had no soul, but he would swear there was a spirit encased within her emaciated body... a soul who was lost, who was searching for a home and the people who had loved her. 

It was a pity he couldn't paint the rune marks on the floor to test her, but he doubted she would walk voluntarily over the magical symbol. For the moment, he would have to rely on his instincts.

“Morgana,” Merlin called a little more gently. He wanted to approach her, but was not willing to trust her quite that far. “Morgana, please, listen to me. What is the last thing you remember?”

She lay back against the headboard of her bed, dragging the cover around her, as if it offered her some kind of comfort. “I told you... all of you.” A sob broke from her lips. “I awakened by a small lake. I was cold and frightened. There was a man. He called himself Alvarr and he told me he was a Druid.”

“Did you recognise this man?” Merlin probed, trying to stem his eagerness. Morgana reminded him of the fey, ready to bolt if pressed too far.

“I don't know. He seemed familiar.” Her sigh was dredged up from the bottom of her heart, if she still had a heart. “Should I have known him? But then he asked me to help him attack Camelot, to return magic to Albion. I knew that wasn't possible. Uther would never allow it.”

“But Arthur would and he is trying to,” Merlin reasoned. “Arthur is not like Uther. He understands that there is light magic to oppose the dark. How does that make you feel?”

Morgana dropped her head into her hands as she considered her answer. When she looked back at Merlin, her pearl like teeth worried her lip. “Good, I think. I know Uther had his reasons for abhorring sorcery, but...” She wrung her hands. “But, Merlin, nothing could have justified killing all those people, some of whom had to be innocent.”

Merlin stepped backwards, until he could rest his shoulders against the door, choosing to put some distance between them, and have a fast escape route. This woman... this witch was weaving an enchantment around him, yet he had the uneasy notion that she was not using magic, didn't even know she had magic. He had to remind himself that Morgana had been just as bloodthirsty as Uther in pursuing her goals.

He shrugged off his anxiety and continued his cross-examination. “Can you remember anything else? Something from before you woke up at the lake?”

Curling up on the bed like a forlorn child, Morgana shrugged again. “Only vague pictures running through my mind, but I cannot seem to grasp them.” She stilled again, then turned her lovely, sad face to the man she saw as her friend. “Arthur said I was insane. Perhaps he is right.”

Ignoring her latter statements, because the jury was still out on that assumption, he went on. “Tell me about these pictures you see. You don't have to be precise.”

Another silence fell over the dreary room, broken only by the occasional sob from Morgana. Finally, she smiled. “Arthur, giving a speech to some villagers. I think we four were all there. You, me, Gwen and Arthur. The village had been attacked by marauders, and we went to help. It seemed a hopeless cause; these villagers weren't trained to fight bandits, yet Arthur inspired them to believe in themselves... and I think we won. I was proud of him that day. But it might only have been a dream,” she finished listlessly.

“No, it wasn't a dream. It did happen and we did win, thanks to Arthur.” Until such time as he learned more about Morgana, he wasn't going to admit to having magic. “Is there anything more recent you remember?”

“I don't know. I just see flashes, and I don't know which chronological order they come in.” She gazed at Merlin, tears still blurring her sight. “What else can I tell you?”

“Anything. Just say the first thing that pops into your mind.”

“I have a strong memory of being alone and scared in the citadel. Everyone fell asleep... everyone but me. Then you and Arthur came home... and there were these stone knights, but they moved. It was so strange. They fought you and Arthur.” Morgana violently shook her head, trying to rid her mind of the images that played behind her eyes. “Which proves I must be mad. Statues do not walk about and give battle.”

“Indulge me here, Morgana. What else do you remember from that time?”

Once again, Morgana hid her face. “I don't know. I can't remember. Maybe if I tried another memory?”

“I don't think that's a good idea. You were the one who brought this incident up.” Merlin prompted sternly. “I think there's a reason why that particular memory is coming back to you.”

“But it isn't... not really. I can almost recall, but then the fog swirls back into my mind, and it's only conjecture.”

At last, Merlin left his safe haven by the door, crossing the room to sit by her side, tentatively taking her hand. “I'm here. I won't let anything bad happen to you, but you must relive what you know,” he said encouragingly, surprising himself with how sanguine he felt towards this woman who had committed such evil acts. Still, for now, he could find no malice in her.

Folding her legs beneath her, Morgana moved closer to Merlin, squeezing his fingers and smiling shyly. Regardless of what she'd said to Arthur earlier, she knew Merlin was not a threat. Everyone trusted Merlin.

She'd heard the town's folk and the castle guards saying he was a sorcerer, which was hard to believe. However, even if it were true, she didn't fear him as she had Alvarr. He might have magic, but Merlin would have good magic.

That belief, too, left her feeling bewildered. What did she know about sorcery?

“Morgana, do you recall anything else?” Merlin interrupted her thoughts, beginning to sound a little impatient.

Then, suddenly, she was afraid. If she had nothing to say, perhaps he would leave her, and she didn't want to be left alone with her thoughts and nightmares. “I'm not sure they are real,” she said, her voice husky through lack of use.

“Let me be the judge of that.” Merlin returned the squeeze of her hands, his eyes shining with as much warmth as he could muster.

“I remember a woman.” Morgana frowned, but whether from concentration or dislike of the woman, neither Morgana nor Merlin could be sure. “She was beautiful... blonde like Arthur. I felt I knew her... Did I?”

“Yes,” he answered with a single word, choosing not to prompt Morgana nor give away any clues.

“But how? I don't think she lived in Camelot.”

Merlin relented a little. “She visited once.”

Morgana pounced. “I remember that! She challenged Arthur and they fought.” Her eyes roamed around her cell, though her sight was far away in time, focused on the sunlit tilting yard outside the castle. “She could have killed him, but she didn't!” Morgana grabbed both of Merlin's hands. “So she can't be a bad person, Merlin. She can't!”

“That's debatable.” Caught off guard, Merlin''s true feelings slipped out, and he noticed Morgana searching his face in puzzlement. Perhaps he needed to give her some information, but he employed Kilgarrah's tactics of talking in riddles. “Sometimes good people do bad things by mistake, or they have no other choice; other times bad people do good things for a particular reason, or to misdirect. The difficult part is trying to distinguish between the two.”

“Which of these people was she?” But Morgana didn't wait for an answer as another memory tumbled from her lips. “Morgause left me a gift, a bracelet.”

“Morgause?” Merlin questioned, his magical senses, at once, stirring into life. She'd plucked that same name out of the air before in Arthur's chambers, yet no one had mentioned it. Were Morgana's memories returning, or was her memory loss purely a ploy?

“She told me it was a healing bracelet and if I wore it my nightmares would cease... but could she have enchanted me? Maybe that's why I have amnesia.”

Merlin's eyebrows rose, considering this unexpected point of view. He supposed it was possible, but Morgause had died long ago, and Morgana had continued on her killing spree, had, in fact, increased her maniacal attacks. Surely it wasn't possible for a sorcerer to control an apostle from beyond the veil for so long, no matter how powerful.

“Was she a sorcerer, Merlin?”

“She was.” Merlin, again, turned cagey. This mental sparring was every bit as difficult and filled with jeopardy as Arthur's sword fighting. “What else have you remembered about the day all Camelot fell asleep except you, when the Knights of Medhir attacked the citadel?”

“Morgause was there, wasn't she?”

“I don't know. You tell me.”

“Before the sickness started, I mean. I got this message to meet her in The Darkling Woods. I went. I don't know why, but I did.” Morgana stood up and walked to beneath the high window, watching as the moon floated from behind the clouds and was framed in the stained-glass. “I felt drawn.” She turned slowly, deep in thought.

Those were very similar to the words Guinevere had repeated to Arthur after she'd betrayed him with Lancelot, but because of Gwen's goodness and loyalty, Merlin had never doubted she'd been enchanted. Was it possible he'd been prejudiced when judging Morgana because of Kilgarrah's warnings? Had the Great Dragon's prophecies been self-fulfilling?

But Morgana was talking once more, and he needed to concentrate. Looking up, he saw her silvered by the moonlight. Someone had given her a clean gown of emerald silk, the colour of her eyes, and Merlin thought she had never looked more beautiful... or more dangerous.

“She asked me what I thought about Uther, and I told her I hated him. But I didn't... not wholeheartedly. How could I? He'd looked after me, had cared for me since my father died. Still, to the depths of my soul, I despised Uther for what he did to people with magic... but some of them were evil... weren't they?”

“Some, but many were innocent. You had every reason to condemn his behaviour. I despised his persecution of people with magic as much as you, but I could never have turned against my friends.”

Morgana was nervously pleating the long sleeves of her gown, over and over. “Is that what you think I did, Merlin?”

“When Arthur and I arrived back in Camelot, you were the only one who was immune to the sleeping sickness. Even Arthur and I began to sicken.”

“I remember now... and Arthur was so brave. He told us to cut up blankets to make a rope so we could lower Uther to the courtyard below.” For the first time since this conversation had begun, Morgana's green eyes shone with animation. “Then he went to face those terrible statues alone, though the disease was spreading through his body. I was so afraid he would be killed.”

Merlin didn't doubt Morgana's statement... not then nor now. Yet he couldn't allow himself to sympathise with her.

“Did you never wonder why you were the only one unaffected?” Merlin probed again, desperation edging his voice. He was tiring, and if Morgana was acting, he had to trick her into betraying herself... and fast.

“I've been asking myself that very question over and over, Merlin, and I've reached the conclusion that it had to be Morgause. She must have assumed I would help her kill Uther. I can't remember clearly, but perhaps I gave her that idea. I was so enraged by him... he'd had me locked up for trying to defend magic... and you know how headstrong I can be.” Morgana stilled as her hands went to either side of her head, pressing on her temples. “Think, Morgana!” she berated herself. “Think! You have to remember everything.”

High above the citadel, clouds drove in, blanking out the moon. There was a smell of ozone in the air, warning Merlin of a coming thunder storm. He doubted the balcony could be utilised for tomorrow's council meeting; Arthur and he would have to find another place for the ordinary people of Camelot who wished to attend the debate. No, strike that. It was already tomorrow, and he really ought to get some sleep.

The torch by the door flickered, and Merlin felt his exhaustion wearing him down. He should not have come tonight. Once more, Morgana had proved she was a match for him... her darkness against his light, yet he had hoped to find out whether she was still to be feared, or a spent force. Regretfully, he had to admit he was no closer to divining the truth.

“Morgana,” he spoke into the gathering gloom. “Trouble yourself no more tonight. Dawn will soon be upon us, so I'll leave you to your rest. We will talk another time.” He walked to the door and rapped upon its iron studded timbers.

“Don't go!” Morgana reached a shaking hand out to him. “I see another image from that night in the forest. Morgause's eyes flashed gold and I collapsed into her arms. She laid me on the ground, and it was is if I was sleeping... but not. I could hear her, repeating these words in a language I didn't understand. As she walked around me, she drew a circle with her staff. She did enchant me!”

“In a manner of speaking,” Merlin owned grudgingly. “Such a powerful spell needs a living conduit to maintain its purpose.” 

Morgana looked horror stricken, while an echo of the girl she'd once been flashed across her face. “She used me!”

But Merlin couldn't let himself believe... not without more proof. He had always considered Morgana a willing participant in Morgause's schemes. From beyond the door, he heard the guards attempting to fiddle the key into the rusty lock and willed them to hurry. He vaguely sensed Morgana taking a step towards him.

“And that is why you poisoned me?” Her voice was low, yet, strangely, filled with sorrow rather than anger. “You left me to Morgause.”

In a split second, Merlin's head twisted to face Morgana, his stricken eyes locked on her gaze, but he found no condemnation within her wide-eyed stare.

“You remembered that?”

Morgana wrapped her arms around her body, trying to hold herself together. “Only just now, but it's true?”

“Yes. I'm not proud of my actions,” he admitted with regret, yet his thin shoulders straightened. “But I had to save Camelot, and I didn't know what else to do. Besides, I thought you'd chosen Morgause.” 

With relief, Merlin heard the door open, but before he hurried outside, he spoke again.

“I'm sorry for what I did... truly, but it doesn't change what has happened since. You say you don't remember the terrible things you did, but I'm not sure any of us believe that.”

Merlin shook his head sadly as he left, his mind swirling with conflicting emotions. Could Morgana have been a simple pawn of Morgause? Her treacherous behaviour in the intervening years definitely suggested otherwise... but back then, was there a chance he could have returned her loyalties to Camelot? Not to Uther, but perhaps to Arthur.

With a determined lift of his chin, he sought to free himself of these ambiguous thoughts. What was done was done, and not even the great Merlin Emrys could change the past... but it was the future that worried him. His eyes glowed gold as he reinforced Iseldir's spell, then he went to find his bed, hoping he would get a few hours sleep. As Gwen would tell him... worry was not a good counsel.

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Merlin still hasn't made his mind up about Morgana. Does she have some diabolical plan, or is she a lost soul? All will be revealed in time.
> 
> I'm so glad guests are finding this story interesting and leaving kudos. I know people might like a different genre of Merlin story, but I'm hoping that some people are reading and enjoying. I would love to hear your thoughts.


	18. Arthur's Rebellion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen gives Merlin a scare and Arthur isn't happy, causing Merlin to resort to magic to straighten out his king.
> 
> Life is getting very difficult and very complicated for The King and his Warlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to post this story twice a week... on Wednesdays and Sundays. I hope you'll continue to read.

Chapter Eighteen  
Arthur's Rebellion

 

Unfortunately, Merlin's wish for a restful sleep was not realised. The storm had broken over Camelot just before first light, rousing the warlock just as he was slipping into a deep sleep. Though he had napped fitfully between the loud peels of thunder and flashes of lightning, he had always been conscious of the crying wind, echoing about the castle turrets, while the steady thrum of the rain pounded against his windows. 

After tossing and turning for the remainder of the night, he decided it might be providential to discover a spell which would render him deaf to the elements for a short time, while he was not unmindful of other alarms. At least he had the satisfaction of knowing that his opponents in the city had also had their sleep interrupted by the din. He doubted that many would have been able to rest through the ferocious tempest. 

So he was unsurprised when someone came rapping loudly on his door at an early hour, but he was taken aback to find Gwen bursting into his room without giving him time to rise.

“Merlin!” she cried pitifully, pulling her shawl tightly about her shoulders over her nightgown, her hair still tangled from a restless sleep. “It's Arthur. He's gone!” she forced out through shaking lips, while her whole body shivered. “Gone. He was with me when the thunder and lightning woke me up. I was having another nightmare. He held me and soothed me till I fell asleep again. But when I woke up just now... he was gone.”

Her words baffled him, his brain sluggish from lack of sleep. Arthur had been weary when he had left him the night before, but he wasn't ill. Kilgarrah's spell had still been working, and his own enchantment and Gaius' potions were keeping his friend in comparatively good health. What could have gone wrong? Was it possible Morgana could have interfered with Arthur's health despite their precautions?

Thinking of the wretched woman he had spoken with a few hours ago, he doubted she was capable of disrupting the combined magic of a dragon, his own talents and Gaius' considerable physician's skills. Not to mention, Iseldir's magic had confined Morgana's powers of sorcery, and he'd reinforced the enchantment when he'd left her.

No, if someone had managed to disrupt the magic that was keeping The King safe, it was someone other than Morgana, and surely no mortal being could have slipped passed the guards, unless they'd been drugged, which wasn't unheard of. Yet, lately, they had been on high alert.

“Not only is he gone, but so is his chain-mail, his armour and his sword. Merlin, what is my foolish husband planning to do?” Irritation coloured Guinevere's question and her toe began to tap in time with the drumming rain, while Camelot's Warlock heaved a huge sigh of relief.

“Oh, you mean he's missing?”

“Of course I do.” The increasingly annoyed Queen answered.

“He's not dead?”

A deep frown creased Gwen's brow. “No! Why would you think he was dead? Though if he's gone off to fight with someone, he very soon could be.” She crossed to look out of the window, peering through the murk, but the quadrangle was nearly empty; even the sentries stationed there were sheltering in the cloisters from the pouring rain, which had puddled in large bodies of water in the cobbled yard.

Any servants who were out and about, pulled up their hoods and scurried as fast as possible across the square. However, there was no sign of her errant husband. Her knuckles gripping the sill showed stark white against her honey-coloured skin. “You and Gaius both explained to him how strenuous activity could be fatal. I heard you, yet he thinks he knows best, and he's probably off challenging Avebury to a duel.”

While Gwen's back was turned, Merlin nipped out of bed and pulled a cloak over his night shirt. “I doubt he'd do that, Gwen. He said himself there wasn't enough evidence to link Lord Avebury to a crime, let alone convict him... and you know Arthur is a fair man...” Merlin's homily halted as his friend turned towards him and he saw tears brimming from her eyes. He hurried to her side and took her trembling hands within his own. “Gwen, calm yourself. I'm sure there is a perfectly plausible explanation.” 

“A plausible explanation why he got up much earlier than usual, dressed himself in his chainmail, without any help, I might add; took his sword and disappeared?” Gwen's voice was laced with scepticism.

“Yes,” Merlin answered with a wry grin, figuratively crossing his fingers.

Actually, Merlin was just as anxious as The Queen. When Arthur took the bit between his teeth, the royal prat could be off doing anything stupid, but he doubted that included confronting Avebury.

“Gwen, call your maid and get dressed and I'll go looking for him. I'll talk to Leon and Percival and I'm sure between us we'll discover where he's gone.” As he spoke, he led her to the door. “I know how worrisome it can be, but we have to learn to trust Arthur to handle his own disabilities. It isn't going to be easy for him, and the idiot is always going to kick against the traces every now and then, but I'm sure he'll be fine.”

Now that Merlin had established that Arthur had donned his armour, he had a vague notion where he might be, and though he wasn't battling with an adversary, he was probably doing something which was equally as dangerous for a man with his injury. With that in mind he quickly dressed, reverting to his old and more comfortable attire, but adding a cloak due to the inclement weather.

However, on his way to the training grounds, his woollen cloak soaked through quickly and he almost discarded it. What on earth had possessed Arthur to come out in this downpour? Whatever it was, he must have felt dire and Merlin could only hope that The King had already sated his ire, before his strength gave out.

Merlin had already sent a guard to fetch Leon and Percival, in case he needed back up to persuade the dollop-head to return. If all else failed, he supposed he could render him unconscious, but he'd rather not resort to such extreme measures. He'd meant what he said when telling Gwen they had to let Arthur set his own boundaries, but one thing he was sure of, if Arthur did overdo things, his body would let him know. That said, he could only pray that it happened before Arthur did any permanent damage.

By the time Merlin had exited the postern gate to reach the bailey, he already resembled a drowned rat, yet even worse was to come. The grass in the tilt yard had turned into a field of mud and Merlin's feet squelched within his leaky boots with every step he took, yet he had found his quarry.

Before him, in the driving rain, he spotted Arthur on the training ground, knocking seven bells out of a wooden dummy. The King was drenched, his blond hair darkened and sticking to his head while rain coursed down his face, but as Merlin closed in, he realised it was more than rain water which coated Arthur's face. Tears of frustration, anger and hopelessness mingled with the elements as Arthur uttered a painful groan with each strike. So intent was The King on his imaginary foe, that he neither saw nor heard Merlin approach.

“What the hell do you think you're doing,” The warlock called as he drew nearer, yet Arthur never halted.

“Training!” he gasped, between tortured breaths.

“Training for what?” Merlin was close enough to touch Arthur now, but he refrained, knowing, that if he did so, he'd most probably end up on his back in the mire with a sword held at his throat.

“For the... next enemy... who targets... Camelot.” The King punctuated each phrase with a hefty stab. But Merlin's practised eye could see his friend was tiring fast, each swing more of an effort. 

“There are no enemies, at least, not ones coming for you with a sword!”

“You don't really believe that?” Arthur asked, pausing for only a second, before resuming his assault with a flurry of blows, though the sharpness had bled out of his strokes, his sword growing heavier and heavier in his grip. “Don't be naïve!”

Merlin quickly decided enough was enough and with a fierce glow of his eyes he muttered, “Aweorpan hildemece!”

The sword flew out of Arthur's hands and landed a safe distance away in the mud, but the unexpected action unbalanced him and he slid to the ground. “What the hell was that for?” he demanded. His eyes blazed, as he lay flat, too winded to stand, staring up at Merlin's worried face, etched against the grey, storm-laden sky.

“You wouldn't have stopped of your own volition, would you?” Merlin asked, offering a hand to pull Arthur to his feet.

But Arthur ignored the help, struggling to rise instead, which wasn't a completely successful move as the slick mud clung to his feet, sucking him back down. He did, however, achieve kneeling. “I will stop when I want to, Merlin.” He paused to regain his ragged breath. “And you promised you would never use your magic against me!”

Standing back out of harm's way, Merlin crossed his arms and surveyed his livid friend. “Unless you're trying to kill yourself. What gave you the stupid idea that you were fit enough to wield a sword, not to mention in a thunder storm?”

Suddenly, the fight went out of Arthur, he leant one arm on his knee and his head sank low, as if he'd lost the strength to hold it erect. “You didn't see her, Merlin,” he said bleakly, his words going off in a completely different direction. 

“See who?” Merlin really wasn't that dense, but he wanted to hear what had troubled Arthur so much that he'd braved the weather to vent his frustrations in his accustomed manner. He had been certain Arthur had understood the consequences of such actions, but, clearly, that wasn't the case. Though he had assured Gwen her husband would be fine, he was not exaggerating when he'd informed the idiot he was in danger of killing himself.

“Who do you think?”

As Arthur looked up at his friend, Merlin was shocked by the stark pain written clear on his face, and not merely a physical ache. Once again, Merlin had to refrain from sympathising with Arthur.

“Guinevere!” Arthur threw the name at Merlin. “I'm not in the habit of sharing anyone else's bed. She has these dreams... but they're not dreams. You and I both know they are memories. She thinks she's guilty of murder... but not just of killing me. I can quite easily prove that's not true, but last night she was moaning in her sleep about Tyr. She dreamt about killing Tyr Seward... and we know that is true. Merlin, you know Guinevere, if she realises the truth it could destroy her!” 

Arthur held back a sob, unwilling to contemplate losing his wife to madness, yet that wasn't the only concern weighing him down. He also had to shoulder the responsibility of Tyr's unhappy end. If only he had listened to Merlin's advice... twice; right after the trial and later that evening, when Merlin had insisted he talk to Tyr to discover the truth. Instead, he'd heeded Guinevere, and an innocent man had died at the hands of his magically perverted queen.

“You have no reason to feel guilty,” Merlin offered with calm deliberation, as if he had read Arthur's thoughts.

“Why? If I'd heeded your warnings, Tyr might still be alive, and Guinevere might have been rescued from Morgana's clutches sooner. She would not have all those terrible deeds lurking in her subconscious, just waiting to strike her down...”

“Arthur, you could not have known. I barely understood what was happening back then. I only had an inkling that something wasn't right...” Merlin heaved a sigh and directed his eyes skyward; this dwelling on a past that couldn't be changed wasn't helping. With some effort, he turned his attention back to Arthur, who was still kneeling in the sludge. “Besides, do you think that is a good enough reason to come down here and hack a hunk of wood to pieces? Don't you think talking to her would have been a better option?”

“Probably, but I was afraid of making things worse for Guinevere,” Arthur admitted grudgingly. His impotent fury was receding and the sticky feel of his rain drenched gambeson chafed against his skin. “Coming here was just a habit; a way of getting rid of my irritation...”

“These days, it's a way of killing yourself!” But as the fight went out of Arthur, Merlin relented. “You're going to have to figure out some other way of relieving your vexation. Come on.” Merlin bent to help Arthur to his feet, but Leon beat him to it.

Unnoticed, both Leon and Percival had entered the tilt-yard and hurried to Merlin's aid.

“Sire, what are you doing out here in this storm?” Leon asked, his voice edged with worry as he pulled Arthur to his feet, while his hair curled damply on his creased forehead.

“Don't!” The King uttered one word, but it was a clear order. “Merlin has already read me the riot act. It was a foolish thing to do and I don't need anyone else to lecture me.”

As Arthur straightened up, he started coughing and bent almost double again. Without instruction, Leon and Percival took hold of both his arms and they walked smartly, but carefully, ahead of Merlin, Arthur stumbling, as best he could, between them.

Retrieving Arthur's sword -- thank goodness he hadn't brought out Excalibur -- Merlin gave a last look around him and caught a glimpse of a raven circling one of the citadel's highest spires. He hoped his spell would work and the bird would fly off, before back tracking to Gaius' chamber. Of course, it could be a perfectly innocent bird, but somehow he thought not. What wild bird would fly in this storm?

By the time the group arrived back inside, all were miserably wet; Arthur the worst of all. Merlin caught sight of George and instructed the manservant to bring a hot bath to the royal chambers as quickly as possible. Since George was hovering around the main entrance, Merlin had no doubt that he was aware of The King's madcap outing and probably had anticipated the need for lots of hot water. Thus, he was not surprised when George informed him the tub would be delivered forthwith. He left the man to do his duty and hurried after Leon and Percival who were now almost carrying their king up the stairs.

Watching them turn the corner, Merlin silently prayed to the fates that Arthur's foolish escapade would not have serious repercussions. Kilgarrah, if you can help from beyond the veil, I beseech you, aid me to reinforce your spell!”

*****

The Queen of Camelot was pacing before the freshly lit fire when the door opened and her husband was escorted in by his knights, who were reluctant to relinquish their grasp under his arms, as though he could not stand for himself. Guinevere stared, while around Arthur a pool of water was spreading across the floor.

“Quickly, Percival, hold him while I remove his armour.” Leon set about unbuckling Arthur's vambraces, smiling encouragingly at Gwen when she came to help with his other arm. Between them, they worked quickly, removing the rest of his armour and pulling the already rusting chainmail over his head. Underneath, his gambeson and shirt were soaked through.

“Arthur, what were you doing?” Gwen asked, her fingers struggling to untie the tangled knots which held the padded garment together.

At that moment Merlin entered the room. “Your husband decided to go training this morning,” he called, crossing to the fire and throwing on a few more logs, which he quickly set alight with a muttered spell. “And the gods forbid that a little rain should deter Camelot's greatest warrior.”

Camelot's king directed a dirty look at his magical advisor's back. “You don't have to rub it in, Merlin. I know it was a crazy thing to do.”

By this time, Leon, Percival and Gwen had Arthur stripped to his under garments, but the damp had seeped into his body and he shivered uncontrollably.

“Percival, fetch a dry cloak from the closet, and, Arthur, come sit by the fire.” All trace of the anxious Guinevere had fled as she sought to tend her husband. “You need to get warm before you catch your death of cold.”

“There's a hot bath on its way. George is organising it,” Merlin said, holding his hands out to the heat.

“Thank you.” Arthur leaned closer to the fire, the shuddering slowly easing out of his frozen limbs, helped by the heavy cape which Percival had draped around his shoulders. “Thanks. To all of you, but I'd prefer if you could keep quiet about my stupid stunt. I promise I won't try anything like that again.” 

Pins and needles attacked his fingers and toes as the blood started to flow back into his extremities. He'd be lucky if that was his only health problem caused by his foolishness, though the ache in his chest warned him that luck wasn't on his side.

There was a sharp knock on the door.

Guinevere turned. “Enter!” she called, her normally soft voice edged with anxiety.

George and his minions appeared with a tub and bath water. Arthur looked forward to sinking into its warm, welcoming depths, but he wasn't particularly keen on having an audience. Thanking the servants for their trouble, he dismissed them and sent Leon and Percival off to prepare the hall for this afternoon's meeting, while giving himself up to Guinevere's and Merlin's ministrations.

Once he was in the bath, Guinevere knelt by his side and prepared to help him bathe, rubbing a warmed cloth over his back before massaging the tension from his shoulders and neck. Merlin propped himself on the edge of the table, watching Arthur closely.

“How do you feel?” Merlin asked, his mouth turned down reproachfully. “And don't tell me any lies, because I know you too well to be fooled.”

Clearing his throat, Arthur quickly glanced at his wife before answering. “Not so brilliant.”

“That's hardly surprising,” Guinevere said, unable to cast aside all her censure. “Why did you do it, Arthur?”

“Because he's an arrogant idiot,” Merlin cut in. “Who thinks he knows what's best...”

Sinking lower in the tub, Arthur admitted sheepishly. “You're right. I've already said I'm sorry. It was a stupid idea to go training... especially in this weather, but do you know how hard it is for me to give it all up? All my life, my body has done everything I have expected it to, and it's difficult to accept that's no longer true...”

“Arthur...”

“No, Guinevere! Before you say anything else, please just listen, both of you.” Arthur glanced from Gwen to Merlin. “I know I've probably mentioned this, but I do mean it. I realise I have to change my habits, but a king needs to be strong; I have to lead my people... I just have to figure out another way to do it than from the back of a horse with my sword in my hand.”

“Arthur, you already have!” Merlin said, pushing away from the table. “Can't you see what's happening at these council meetings? The people are listening to you.”

“Not Avebury and his friends!” The thought of the quarrelsome noble started Arthur coughing again, a rough hack which sliced through his chest.

“Gwen, quickly, fetch his medicine,” Merlin instructed, sinking down by Arthur's side, one arm wrapping around The King's shoulder while his other hand covered the scar below Arthur's heart.

As Arthur's head lolled forward, Merlin muttered the words Kilgarrah had taught him, his eyes glowing intensely golden as he concentrated on moving the sliver of sword back along its path. His magic felt an almost imperceptible shift, and relief flooded through him, as Arthur's coughing lessened.

Gwen's hand held out the bottle. “Drink, Arthur!”

Completely contrite, and nearly unconscious, Arthur swallowed the concoction, though some dribbled down his chin.

“Help me, Gwen. We need to get him dry and back in bed.”

Little was said over the next few minutes as the two friends worked together to make the man they cared for comfortable again, but once he was installed in his bed, resting on a mountain of pillows, Guinevere dared to ask.

“Has he done himself any permanent harm, Merlin?”

Once more, Merlin placed his hand over Arthur's chest, while he leaned close to listen. “He could have, but I managed to reverse the damage by repeating Kilgarrah's enchantment. After his soaking, his lungs sound more congested than they were, but Gaius' remedy should fix that. I'll confer with Gaius, but I'd say we need to increase the dosage for a few days.”

Arthur groaned at that, and his heavy eyelids lifted. “I am awake, and I'd rather you didn't talk over me like I were a child.”

“Then don't act like one,” Guinevere said, peevishly. “Have you any idea of the fright you gave us all?”

“Yes,” Arthur said flatly, aware he wasn't going to live down his actions any time soon. However, help came from an unexpected quarter.

“No more than you, Gwen.” Merlin regarded his oldest friend in Camelot from the other side of the bed. “We are all worried about you, and I think that anxiety drove Arthur out into the rain.”

Guinevere began backing off, looking very like a cornered doe seeking to escape the hunters.

“Merlin!” Arthur proved he wasn't too sick as he punched his adviser in the arm.

“Hey, that hurt!” said Merlin, rubbing his aching bicep.

“Honestly, the two of you. I give up!” Gwen decided this was a good time to make her escape. “The only thing you have to worry about me is that I'm over-worked and over-wrought with organising this Grand Council of yours, Arthur. I'll leave you in Merlin's capable hands and trust you will be recovered enough to reconvene the debate.” Then she turned and swept from the room, her head held high, though, to her husband and her friend, her exit looked more like flight.

Arthur sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed, but found he had to sit for a second, waiting for the room to stop swaying like leaves in a storm. “Thanks, Merlin. That went down well.”

“I did suggest you should talk to her about her nightmares.”

“How can I talk to her when that is her reaction?” Finally, Arthur was able to rise, though he did steady himself by placing a hand, nonchalantly, on the bed post. “She changes the subject, or finds she has pressing business elsewhere. But now I'm left with only you, and, since I'm feeling well enough to get dressed, you can help me.”

“Are you sure you're ready for that?”

“Yes!” Arthur gave his friend a regal stare, daring him not to argue. “I'm waiting, Merlin.”

“But I'm no longer your servant!” Merlin suggested smugly.

“Actually, if you remember, I rescinded that order,” Arthur replied quickly with an evil smile. “So you can start by finding me some clothes.” Though Merlin rolled his eyes, he did obey. “And correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't we going to put Morgana through some sort of test today, to find out if she is a sh... shadow.”

“Shade!” Merlin's disembodied voice came from inside the wardrobe.

“I don't know, Merlin. Any colour will do... just pick something clean.” Arthur had retrieved a pair of dry boots and was sitting on the end of his bed... waiting.

Merlin let out a guffaw. “Not a colour!”

But as Arthur glared at him, he said nothing more and there was silence as the two reverted to their old roles, Merlin handing Arthur his clothes and helping him dress. How did Merlin explain that he had already visited Morgana... and how angry was Arthur going to be?

“So, out with it,” Arthur commanded, trying to manoeuvre his arms into his jacket which Merlin was, absent-mindedly, holding out somewhat askew.

“Huh?”

“I know you well enough by now to realise you're figuring out how to tell me something I'm not going to like.” Finally, fully dressed, Arthur rounded on Merlin and waited with his arms crossed.

“Oh, that!” Merlin busied himself straightening up the coverlet on the bed. “It's just that it's a Shade, not a Shadow, and it has nothing to do with the colour of your clothes.”

“Rubbish...”

“Arthur, I think I know what a Shade is better than you...”

“I don't deny that, but that's not what you're trying to hide from me.” Placing his hands on Merlin's shoulders, Arthur turned him round. “Now, we are not leaving this room until you come clean.”

Internally, Merlin regretted the fact that his king was beginning to read him far better than he liked. “Alright, but speaking about this isn't going to be easy...”

“Nonsense, Merlin. You just use your lips and tongue as you just have...”

“Prat!” Merlin was about to plump up the bed pillows, when Arthur stopped him.

“Leave that! You're done with your servanty business today. Just sit down and tell me about Morgana... It is Morgana?”

“Yes. You're getting quite perceptive...”

Arthur looked like he could happily strangle his friend, but instead, he threw up his hands. “Then you must realise I am fast losing patience here,” he said, sitting in his chair, mainly to restrain himself from shaking Merlin, at the very least. “So what did Morgana have to say?”

Merlin's eyebrows rose and he looked to the ceiling, searching for divine intervention, but needless to say, The Triple Goddess, and all the other gods were no help. “Not a lot,” he answered, taking his sovereign's advice and sliding into a chair. “But, in my humble opinion, I don't think she's a Shade...”

“Humble?” Arthur squeaked sarcastically. “You're the most powerful warlock ever, so don't play the humble card with me. And tell me, when did you decide it was safe for you to visit Morgana on your own? I take it you went last night, after you left me?”

Merlin's fingers drummed nervously on the arm of his chair, but at Arthur's pointed glance he gave up and clasped his hands instead. “I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep before I'd confronted her... and I did check the wards were in place before I entered her cell. There are two guards outside, as well.”

“Merlin, be careful... Please.” Arthur leaned forward in his chair, his clear blue glance showing deep concern. “And before you reassure me that everything is fine, I am aware you are far more powerful than Morgana, but you don't hate, and you don't have her killer instincts. You're too ready to give people the benefit of the doubt.” Arthur held his hands up placatory. “Now, I'm not saying that's a bad thing, and I truly don't want you to change... ever, but it does put you at a disadvantage when dealing with someone who once was your friend...” 

“I did kill her!”

Arthur nodded. “You did. You had to! But you can't tell me you felt good about having to kill her.”

“It made me sad, but Morgana had to die, and you weren't in any fit state...” Merlin stared back at his friend with equal understanding. “It didn't make you happy either. We both remembered the girl she once was.”

“That Morgana was lost to us a long time ago,” Arthur said quietly, mournfully, as his mind slipped back to a time when Morgana, Gwen, Merlin and he had been an idealistic young foursome, ready to right the wrongs of evildoers.

“What would you say if it were possible we could have that Morgana back?” Merlin edged forward in his seat, though trying to keep his eagerness from seeping into his words.

Arthur's eyes narrowed. “Surely that is impossible?”

Merlin pondered the possibility before answering. “To be honest, I have no idea. I don't believe Morgana is a Shade, though you're right and we should do the test, regardless of what I think.” His mouth felt dry as he contemplated what he was about to say. “Arthur, since she's arrived back in Camelot, my magic cannot sense any duplicity in Morgana, but I have no idea if that is fact, or if being a High Priestess means she can prevent me from sensing her true aura.”

The atmosphere in the room seemed charged with unbelievable hope as Arthur rose, too agitated to remain seated. How did he feel about a redeemed Morgana? Could he forgive all the cruelties she had enacted on the people he loved and on his precious kingdom?

“But how can that be, Merlin? After all she has done, all the pain she has wrought? How can she put aside all that hatred and vengefulness she felt for us?” Arthur's fingers pressed hard into his temples, in a gesture very similar to Morgana's. “And how can we forget; wipe the slate clean? I'm not sure I can put all that behind us... I'm not sure I should!”

“You forgave, Gwen, when she was under Morgana's spell,” Merlin reasoned, though truth be told, he wasn't very comfortable with that analogy. “She also forgot what she did when she was enchanted.”

“Guinevere was innocent! She never chose the dark path as did Morgana,” Arthur almost shouted angrily. “Do not compare them. Their situations are entirely different.” He turned his back on his friend.

“Arthur, I never meant it like that!” Merlin jumped up and laid his hand gently on Arthur's shoulder. “Gwen always had a pure heart, because of that we were able to reach her and free her from the spell.”

As Arthur's inflexible stance eased, Merlin girded his courage and spoke on... “But Morgana managed to twist Gwen to her own ends in just a few days, while she was under Morgause's influence for over a year. We have no idea what happened during that time, though clearly Morgause turned her against us...”

“Merlin, by the time she disappeared, she'd already begun to hate us.” Arthur's voice held no animosity, only sorrow.

But once again Merlin disagreed. He walked directly in front of his king, holding Arthur's troubled gaze with his own. “No, I don't believe that... not completely. She hated Uther because he executed sorcerers, and she was terrified of what he might do to her if he found out she had magic, but I don't think she hated you. That time, when the Knights of Medhir attacked Camelot, she was still afraid for you!”

“Do you seriously think we could have stopped her abandoning us?” There was a faint glimmer of longing deep in Arthur's eyes.

This time the silence stretched out, seemingly endlessly, while Merlin, once again, questioned the wisdom of the choice he had made, so long ago, and Arthur waited with uncharacteristic patience.

“I suppose it might have been possible... but once I had poisoned her, there was no way back.”

“You poisoned her?” Arthur backed away, saying nothing while he walked slowly to sit by the fire. He rested his head on the high backed chair, his eyes closed, and it seemed as if he might have fallen asleep. Eventually he sighed. “I ought to be shocked... but I'm not.” Opening his eyes, he regarded Merlin with something akin to detachment. “Was Morgana the carrier of the sleeping sickness?”

“You could say that... It was a sickness caused by an enchantment, and Morgause needed a living being to maintain the spell.” Merlin walked closer to Arthur. “I'd always thought Morgana was complicit, but now I'm not so sure. How did you know?”

“It was obvious there was something very strange about that sickness, and about those excuses why Morgana wasn't infected. It wasn't difficult to put it together when a High Priestess showed up with her carved minions, but I never thought Morgana was guilty of anything. I just thought Morgause had kidnapped her out of spite.”

“Not out of spite. She did care for her sister, and when Morgana was dying, she blasted her way into the council chamber and threatened to kill me for what I'd done, instead I blackmailed her into lifting the spell by withholding the name of the poison. She wasn't happy, but the love for her sister outweighed her hatred for Uther. She lifted the enchantment...”

“And the Knights of Medhir collapsed into heaps of rubble,” Arthur mused, remembering his relief.

“I gave her the poison. Everyone started waking up... and, as you saw, they both disappeared in one of those whirlwinds.”

Arthur groaned, stretching his rigid muscles and smiling half-heartedly at Merlin. “I thought I would surely die, but once again, Merlin saved the day.” 

“You're not angry?” Merlin asked, not willing to believe his luck.

“If I was to be angry at every one of your revelations, Merlin, I'd probably spend my time in a permanent state of rage, and, to tell the truth, I don't have the energy.” With a swift change of mood, he stood up briskly, grabbing Merlin's shoulder as he passed him. “Come on. We have a witch to test, and a raven to check on... It might surprise you, but I saw it too. It's going to be a busy day, and I'm exhausted just thinking about it!”

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who are following this story and the guests who are leaving kudos. If you have the time, I'd love to know what you think of the latest chapter.


	19. To Track a Traitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kay returns and is given a special assignment by The King. Later, Arthur and Merlin have a chat with Gaius and Iseldir and meet up with a raven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, I'm posting on Sunday. I hope readers are fairly happy with my schedule.
> 
> Thanks again to those who are leaving comments and who are following the story. Look out for another part on Wednesday.

Chapter Nineteen  
To Track a Traitor

As the two friends negotiated the castle corridors, they discovered most of Camelot's guests were now up and about and seeking sustenance. Judging from the general flow of the crowds, it seemed Guinevere had ordered breakfast to be served in the dining hall and the council chambers. Already there were queues forming at both these entrances, while a host of servants threaded their way through the crush with platters of food held aloft to avoid spillage.

“I hope this Grand Council doesn't last too long, or this lot are going to eat us out of house and home,” Arthur complained mildly as he turned away, deciding to use a different route to reach his destination rather than force his way through the throng and, no doubt, become involved in various conversations with his visitors. Though, truth be told, he hadn't quite decided on exactly where he was heading first.

“Merlin, how long will it take you to prepare those rune marks?” he asked as he ducked down a narrow flight of circular stairs in one of the turrets.

“Not too long, though I need to pick up a few things from Gaius' chambers first.”

“Good. We can kill two birds with one stone when we check if that raven is carrying a message.”

Arthur laughed at his own joke, while Merlin groaned. However, the warlock was content that The King was in a better mood, where he was prepared to actually make stupid quips.

“That was a terrible pun, Arthur!” he grumbled. “You're losing your touch, my friend.”

Both pressed themselves against the white-stone wall when an unusually ruffled George came barrelling down the stairs behind them. “Sorry, Sire. Can't stop now. The Queen has sent me to the kitchens to organise more food. That lot are a greedy bunch and they'll eat us out of house and home.” George echoed his sovereign’s words of earlier. “And that's mainly the nobles. The common people seem grateful for anything that's on offer,” he added, as he resumed his descent to the kitchens.

“Yeah gods! Did we just see a flustered George?” Arthur enquired. “Things must be bad.”

Yet, it seemed George was not wholly forgetful of his first duty, as his face reappeared round the curve of the stairwell.

“Have you eaten, Sire? I could instruct the cook to send you some breakfast if you will only tell me where you are going.”

Arthur's stomach rumbled at the mention of food, and he looked questioningly at Merlin, before replying to his servant's kind offer. “Thank you, George. Send two breakfasts to Gaius' chambers, please,” he said, after receiving an enthusiastic nod from Merlin. No doubt his crazy early morning stunt had interrupted Merlin's breakfast too. “Actually, make that four. I'm not sure Gaius' fare is very appetising and Iseldir needs to eat... I assume. Do Druids eat first thing in the morning?”

“I don't see why not,” Merlin gave his considered opinion. “They are human beings, after all.”

But George had already heard his orders and had once again vanished into the lower regions of the citadel, Arthur and Merlin following at a more sober pace. When they reached the bottom, they made their way outside.

At least the rain had eased and a dull silver aureole glowed in the lowering sky, proving that the sun was attempting to push through the clouds. Arthur had changed into dry clothes, and Merlin had attempted to dry himself by the fire in the royal chambers, which hadn't worked totally, but at least he had borrowed another cloak. He whispered a 'drying' spell and was delighted at the result. Now he no longer had to hide his magic, he really ought to increase his repertoire, or maybe not. Gaius would tell him that magic wasn't to be used for humdrum tricks. 

As they quickly wove their way around the pools in the quadrangle, they noticed Sir Kay helping a number of very damp people from the back of a wagon. In accord, both changed direction to hail Kay.

“You're back, Kay,” said The King, smiling expansively while stating the obvious.

“Yes, Sire,” Kay answered, assisting a particularly grey haired old man down from the boards. “We would have returned sooner but this deluge washed out the bridge at Creech, so we had to go north to find another crossing.”

“But you reached Brineved?”

“I did, and all the settlements in between, and, as you can see, I've collected a number of people who wish to join your Grand Council,” Kay shepherded his group, numbering six men and a younger boy, towards The King, though he still guided the steps of the old gentleman. “Sire, I would like to present, Quin, the headman of Brineved.”

The old man bowed with difficulty while holding out his free hand as if feeling his way, and Arthur quickly realised Quin's sight was poor. He grasped the old man's arm, and patted it gently. “Good day, Quin. I'm Arthur, and I'd like to welcome you to Camelot. You are all most welcome,” he added, extending his greeting to the whole party. “Thank you for travelling so far to attend my council, and in this inclement weather. But you are wet and cold, and there is food being served in the halls, which I'm sure you need.” Arthur turned and called down one of the guards by the main entrance. “Please escort these good people inside to the dining hall, and ask The Queen or Sir Geoffrey to take care of them for me.”

Quin spoke up in a hoarse, yet surprisingly cultured voice. “No one can predict the weather, Sire, and the storm broke only on the last stage of our journey. We should thank you, Sir King,” and he bowed again. “It is a fine thing to know that our voices shall be heard amongst those of the highest in the land.”

“It is only fitting that you should have your say, since the changes we propose will affect your lives as well as ours here in Camelot,” Arthur countered as he studied the rest of Kay's charges, all looking sullenly awkward, except for the oldest and the youngest, who gazed around with bright curiosity. “As you have missed the opening speeches, I'd like to present to you my friend and adviser, Merlin Emrys, who I'm sure will instruct you in anything you might want to know regarding magic before casting your vote. However, please go inside and dry yourselves off and eat for now. The next meeting starts this afternoon, so you have time to rest from your travels. I have urgent duties which need attention, but I will talk to you later.”

With much bowing and a mumbling of thanks, the group followed the guard, the boy taking over Kay's duty of leading Quin. Arthur's latter statement wasn't only out of courtesy. He intended finding out how they felt about magic and its possible return. Meanwhile, he could always ask Kay for the lie of the land.

“Kay, come, walk with us,” Arthur instructed, leading them towards the stairs which would take them to Gaius' apartments. “I'm sorry you're still soaking wet and hungry, but I promise not to keep you long. I wondered if any of the people you brought discussed this gathering while on the road.”

“They did, Arthur. At first, they were reluctant to speak with me, but I could hear them talking amongst themselves.” Kay looked a bit crest fallen to admit this, but he continued more cheerfully. “However, after I saved Matthew from falling in the water at Creech, they became more forthcoming. We stayed overnight at a small farm, and were glad of the cover when the rain started pelting down. It was a bit over-crowded, mind you, and most of us spent the night in the barn. Well, more of a lean-to with three sides, but it was better than nothing. We got a fire going and had a cosy chat. Generally, I'd say that Quin and Matthew are your only strong supporters. The boy is Quin's grandson and he's only along to help, cheery little soul that he is.” Kay smiled, remembering the boy's enthusiasm when he discovered he was included in the party. “He's probably never been this far from his home in his life. Pity he can't vote, though, cause you're his hero, Arthur. He'd most likely agree that the moon was made of cheese if you said so.”

The King looked suitably abashed, and quickly steered the conversation back on track. “And the rest?”

“The other three could go in either direction, but Owyn, the small dark one, he's definitely against magic, though I have no idea why, and I couldn't draw him out.”

“That doesn't sound like you, Kay. Normally, you could talk a beggar into giving you his only shirt,” Arthur said with a tiny grin.

“True!” Kay bowed with a flourish. “Yet joking aside, I think he might have a particular reason, but I have no idea what it is and he's keeping very quiet. Do you want me to try to persuade him to open up?”

Arthur ran a hand through his hair which still hung in dank strands on his forehead. “Not at the moment, Kay. You've done well, but take some time off for the moment,” Arthur said with a slight wheeze, pointing back the way they had come. “Get yourself some food and dry clothes. With luck, we'll have time later to visit your friends. Oh, and Kay, I do have another job for you. Could you escort Lady Morgana to my father's chambers when you've finished... say in around an hour?”

“Morgana? I thought she was dead!”

“Seems not,” Arthur almost groaned, his face blank.

“And she's here, in Camelot?” Kay looked surprised and not at all unhappy.

“In a manner of speaking.” Arthur thought of explaining, but decided against it for the present. It was all too complicated. “If you ask Sir Leon, he'll tell you where she's being kept, but remember, Kay, this isn't the Morgana you once knew; definitely not the girl we used to play with. She's a prisoner and she's dangerous...”

That brought a loud laugh from Sir Kay. “Arthur, she was always dangerous! She ruled the roost when we were children.”

Even Arthur laughed, somewhat sheepishly, at that memory, as Merlin tried to imagine Morgana as a child; probably a wild, vibrant girl with a sense of purpose, but also a sense of humour.

“I wouldn't disagree with that.” The King's laugh ended in another wheezing cough, and he covered his mouth until his breathing steadied. “But off you go, Kay. Clean up and eat! And that's an order. We'll see you later with Morgana.”

Arthur watched as Kay bowed his head and marched off, when he noticed Merlin staring at him with raised eyebrows. “What?”

“You're brave, visiting Uther's chambers again,” Merlin observed, falling into step by Arthur's side as they continued on their way to meet Gaius. “Last time, you couldn't wait to leave.”

Arthur shrugged, but his jaw tightened with determination. “I'm still not comfortable being there, but if we want to discover the truth about Morgana, we have to find some way to catch her off balance.” Arthur swept passed the guards and mounted the stairs that led to the physician's chambers, continuing to talk over his shoulder. “She hated Uther and if she was responsible for his death, then perhaps she won't feel very relaxed there either.”

“Particularly if she's lying to us about her memory loss,” Merlin conceded, before a shiver coursed through his body. “You know, you might have banished Uther beyond the veil again, but I get the strangest feeling he still haunts his rooms.”

Halting on the stair above his friend, Arthur turned, a look of shock flashing across his face. “He doesn't, does he?”

“No! Without a doubt, you sent him back to the spirit world,” Merlin reassured The King. “But Uther was larger than life, and there is something of his presence still lingering in those rooms. You really ought to have them cleared out and refurbished.”

“You're right, of course, but don't expect Guinevere and me to move in. They might be the 'royal chambers' but we're happy where we are, thank you.”

The two men had arrived at their destination, which put paid to their present conversation. Arthur knocked on the door, but without waiting for an answer, he led Merlin inside.

Gaius' chambers were overflowing with the implements of his physician's trade, which he had collected over the years. Although it appeared cluttered, there was some sort of organization in the chaos. At least, Gaius appeared to know where everything was.

At the moment, Gaius and his guest, Iseldir, were sitting at a small table eating bowls of porridge: clearly their breakfasts from the castle's kitchen had not yet arrived. Both looked up at the sound of visitors entering their abode.

“Merlin, Arthur,” Gaius greeted, with a slight edge of disapproval in the last name. “I hear you had a training session at the crack of dawn, Sire?”

“Does everyone know? I swear the castle gossip mill must be faster than a speeding arrow,” Arthur replied, attempting humour again, though he failed miserably. “Have the beacons been lit to pass the message around the kingdom that their king is a complete and utter dollop-head?”

Taken aback by Arthur's vehemence, Gaius rose. “Sire, there is no need to be so aggrieved. You might have been a little foolish, but your actions weren't unexpected.”

“They weren't?”

“Not by me,” Gaius replied more kindly. “Truth to tell, I've been expecting you to try out your strength, but now you've learned your boundaries, you will be more circumspect in the future.”

Arthur looked stunned. “I will?”

This time Gaius laughed heartily. “Of course, you will. No matter how many times Merlin calls you a prat or clot-pole, I know you to be an intelligent young man who understands his responsibilities to his people.”

Reaching out to nudge his friend, Arthur smiled too. “See, Merlin. Some people appreciate my abilities.” But he quickly grew serious. “Actually, Gaius, I don't think I've got off totally free. My breathing is painful and Merlin thinks you might want to increase my medication.”

“Oh, you really are learning,” Merlin said and added with pretend shock, “I was sure we'd have to tie you down to force more of the potion down your throat.”

“Merlin, don't be so disrespectful,” Gaius declared, genuinely surprising both young men. “I've prepared a supply for you, Arthur.” He crossed to a large cupboard which held all his herbs and concoctions, plucking out a wooden box which he brought to the table. When he opened the lid, a number of small bottles could be seen inside. “You should take one of these vials four times a day until you feel your breathing is easier.”

“Won't you want to examine me first?” Arthur asked, somewhat bewildered.

Gaius' one eyebrow rose. “I don't see why. I'm perfectly happy to let you manage your own ailment, Arthur. However, if you don't feel sufficiently recovered in a few days, you can stop by and we'll review your remedy. But I don't foresee any problems, if you make sure you rest in between your duties.”

“Thank you, Gaius.” It was clear Arthur appreciated being given some control over his illness. “See, Merlin,” he whispered in an aside to his friend. “Some people trust me.”

“I trust you!” Merlin answered, but the conversation was cut short by a loud knock on the door.

Gaius answered and stood back as two servants brought in trays of appetising food.

“Your breakfast, “ Arthur explained with a grin, gesturing for the maids to place the plates on the table. “I know porridge is healthy but I thought you might appreciate something more... interesting.”

Still sitting at the table, Iseldir smiled, looking slightly stunned at the selection of food. “Such a large amount of food would be expected to feed all of my clan for a day. You should not spoil me so, Sire.”

Arthur's pale skin took on a rosy glow. “I'm sorry. I didn't think.” If possible The King turned even redder. “Seems I do a lot of 'not thinking!' Iseldir, if you are short of food, you only have to ask and we will provide. Camelot looks after their own, and please, it is Arthur.”

“Then, thank you, Arthur,” Iseldir acknowledged The King's proposal with a placid smile. “But the weather has been kind this year until now, and my people don't lack sustenance, albeit a little more simple fare. However, I will remember your kind offer in a time of famine.”

And, though Iseldir himself was clearly happier with simple fare, he did please Arthur by sampling some of the castle food. Thus, it was a more content king who joined the Druid at the table, tucking into his own meal with some gusto.

Meanwhile, by the door, Gaius and Merlin were deep in conversation, proving Gaius wasn't quite so blasé about Arthur's state of health.

“How does he look so healthy after his exertions?” he inquired of his ward, keeping his voice low. “You and I were both sure that any violent actions over a prolonged period would dislodge the shard and kill him.”

“True,” Merlin agreed, standing closer to Gaius and turning his shoulder to the men at the table. “And if you had seen the condition he was in when first I reached him, you might have thought him about to die. We got him inside, which I have to say, he wasn't happy about, but he did let us take care of him. I think he understood he was close to the edge, and that made him fairly docile.”

“But the sliver of sword, Merlin? Is he still close to the edge of death?”

Merlin's brows rose. “No, Gaius. It's strange. I used Kilgarrah's enchantment, boosted by my own, and I felt the fragment move backwards... more than I could have hoped for. I'm not sure why, but it's farther from Arthur's heart than before his escapade.”

“Probably because your powers are stronger than any of us imagined... even Kilgarrah.” Gaius thought for a moment, before his faded eyes sparkled. “Your gifts might yet match that of the dragons and the Sidhe.”

“I'm not certain that's the reason,” Merlin replied, even if it were true his skills might one day equal the oldest magic in the land. “Gaius, did it ever occur to you that perhaps the sword splinter might not be quite as dangerous because Aithusa is a young dragon and a maimed one?” 

“You mean Mordred's sword isn't as powerful as Excalibur?” Gaius' one quirked eyebrow almost reached his hairline. “You could be onto something, Merlin. Still powerful enough to cause Arthur problems and too powerful for us to remove, but perhaps easily manipulated by someone like yourself.”

“It's worth considering.”

Gaius nodded. “We need to do some research. I'll ask Iseldir and Geoffrey to help, though perhaps Geoffrey is too busy with this council, but he might show us where to look in the archives.”

“Good. I'll leave that up to you,” Merlin said. “But not a word to Arthur. At the moment, he's still enough of an idiot to throw caution to the wind if he found out.”

“Merlin,” Arthur interrupted the clandestine talk. “Don't you want to eat? I swear I heard your stomach grumble earlier.”

Merlin and Gaius shared a quick glance of agreement and went to enjoy their breakfast.

“I'm starving. I could eat a horse!” Merlin grinned.

“Horses are for riding, not for eating,” Arthur affirmed with his mouth full. “Besides, this tartlet thing is very good.”

Sampling a bite, Merlin nodded, a look of delight spreading across his face as the buttery pastry and tasty filling melted in his mouth. He quickly took another piece. “It is! I will have to send my compliments to the cook,” he finally managed to say.

“You?” Arthur laughed. “You hate the cook, though she very kindly gave you an alibi once.”

“Most of the time, she enjoys hitting me over the head with her spurtle!”

“What's a spurtle?” Arthur asked, clearly sadly lacking a knowledge of kitchen utensils.

“It's the wooden spoon I use for stirring porridge, Arthur,” Gaius was quick to enlighten his sovereign. “And for a lot of my potions, to be honest.”

“We use them too for much the same thing,” Iseldir joined in.

For a short respite, the four people around the table enjoyed a general chat on everything from cooking to the weather. Until the raven in the room cawed, demanding to be fed.

Merlin and Arthur both rose. “I suppose it's time we addressed the reason we came here,” Arthur suggested, allowing Merlin to approach the angry bird, whose claws and beak looked very sharp.

“It landed on the window ledge this morning and we enticed it in with scraps,” Gaius explained, “but it won't allow either of us near it. We thought it best to leave it up to Merlin.”

“That was very kind of you.” Merlin looked somewhat sceptical as he moved slowly closer, eyeing the raven's black, beady stare. “Why does everyone assume I'm an animal person?”

“You did enchant it, didn't you?” Arthur smirked, staying inches behind his friend. “It will most likely recognise you.”

“You think?” Merlin pouted, but he stretched his hand out while the bird beat its wings angrily. “Ici I gemildge.” His eyes flashed a muted gold, not wanting to spook the bird further. “Angnes ne!” When the raven subsided on its wooden perch, Merlin grinned with success.

“Good for you, Merlin!” Arthur came to stand next the warlock, attempting to hit Merlin's arm in one of his 'friendly' gestures, but Merlin moved too fast. Arthur's hand swiped air, sending the bird flapping again.

“Thanks!” Merlin frowned, and calmed the bird once more. They both leaned, cannily, forward to check the bird's legs for messages, and neither were shocked to see a small rolled up parchment attached to the raven.

With great care and still whispering soothing words to the strange bird, Merlin removed the message before handing it to Arthur.

“Go ahead, Merlin. You retrieved it, you should read it,” Arthur said generously. Perhaps a young Arthur would have insisted on his place, but The King had learned to trust and delegate. However, Merlin knew Arthur would be anxious, so he read aloud.

“Right! It appears to be to someone called Daman, and it reads... 'Have enlisted allies against sorcery. Am hopeful to succeed in our quest. Warn our master to be prepared to march. Your Lord.”

Blowing out his cheeks in frustration, Arthur asked, “And that's all? It's not exactly informative, though it tells us Avebury is working for someone...”

“His master,” Merlin said, shaking his head. “Well, it's not a sorcerer, that much is clear.”

“True,” Arthur agreed, absent-mindedly, his thoughts racing. “But that letter does give us some clues. Avebury is vain, and he has already informed us he is one of Camelot's foremost nobles. The only people he would consider outrank him would be members of the royal family...”

“And he isn't referring to you in that message,” Merlin stated, following Arthur's train of thought. 

“No...” Arthur prowled round Gaius' room, dodging the strewn furniture. “I believe we have another traitor in Camelot. One who is manipulating the Grand Council for his and his liege-lord's own ends. But I have no idea which king he follows, and, judging from that message, he has no intention of letting the name slip. He doesn't even sign his own name.”

“I suppose forcing him to reveal his intentions is out of the question?” Merlin asked, already knowing the answer.

Arthur halted, for one tiny moment considering that option. “That's impossible. My hands are tied. Avebury has made himself the champion of the 'ban the magic' camp.” Arthur shrugged. “I invited everyone here to speak their minds under a banner of peace and I will not break that obligation.”

No one in the room doubted Arthur's words. Apart from being The King, he was a true Knight of Camelot who believed his word was his bond. His fidelity was yet another of his virtues.

“Not to mention our opponents would revel in the opportunity to denounce me as a tyrant,” he continued, putting himself in his enemies shoes. “Or Avebury could suggest Merlin had won me over to the dark side with an enchantment, especially since he could deny that message had anything to do with him. Plus we would lose our opportunity to discover who is behind the threat to Camelot.”

Merlin had listened intently to Arthur, but he too was deep in thought. “We should set the raven free, after I place a tracking spell on it. Then we could find out the destination of the message, at least.”

Iseldir stepped forward and interrupted. “I can weave a simple tracking spell, if Gaius has the ingredients?”

“I do!”

“Good, then we'll leave that up to you.” Arthur nodded, grateful Merlin didn't have to bear the load alone. “Meanwhile, we do not let Avebury know we suspect him of anything more than disagreeing with our proposals on magic. If we give him enough space, he might grow over confident and give himself away.”

“Do you intend to keep watch on him?” Gaius asked, approving of the young men's plan, though shocked when they both grinned.

“I believe Merlin has already set that in motion. An old friend has come back to Camelot for the council and since he's staying in a room very close to Avebury, he's agreed to keep his eyes open.” Arthur took another circle around the chamber, almost tripping over a small table which held a burning stove, while a bowl of liquid bubbled merrily on top. Quickly, he steadied it, and himself. “Sorry, Gaius,” he said, distractedly. “Merlin, it's not enough. We can't rely purely on William when so much is at stake.”

“I agree, though it can't be anyone who has magic.” Between them the two friends were putting together a strategy. “Many of the nobles would see that as harassment.”

“And it shouldn't be any of our close supporters... They'd be regarded as biased,” Arthur said solemnly. “The result of this debate has to be honest and above board, and more than that, it has to be seen to be unquestionable. It is the only way forward to legalise magic without starting a civil conflict.”

Merlin and Arthur sighed in unison.

“We knew it wasn't going to be easy, Arthur.” Merlin stuck his hands in the pockets of his new jacket. “But even I have to admit I never foresaw a problem like Avebury...”

“Not to mention my sister,” Arthur added, sighing again. “I'm sorry, Gaius and Iseldir, but Merlin and I have arranged to meet Kay and Morgana in my father's chambers.”

Time had flown quickly, and Merlin startled. “And we have to get there first. I need to prepare the runes for the necromancy test. I still have to gather the tools... and do you still have that book, Gaius? I'd like to remind myself of the spell.”

“Then you must hurry,” Gaius advised, proceeding to search through his library, but it was Iseldir who found the book. “Thank you, my friend. I think I need a stronger pair of glasses. Now go on,” he instructed the warlock and king, shooing them away as if they were his students. “Iseldir and I will see to the raven and put our heads together to come up with suggestions for undercover surveillance.”

Within no time, Arthur and Merlin were on their way to Uther's chambers, their arms full of utensils for the job of discovering whether Morgana was a Shade.

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think of this chapter and how you feel the plot is progressing. I'd be over the moon to hear from you.


	20. The Mystery of Morgana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin solves one part of the mystery of Morgana, but neither he nor Arthur feel they can trust her. However, Morgana does make a friend.
> 
> There is some mind talk in this chapter and it is denoted thus ~~.....~~
> 
> I don't own Merlin, but I have borrowed a few lines of dialogue from the show in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to my new posting schedule, this is the next chapter. I do wonder if my story is the kind of genre which is popular on this archive. I will continue posting in the hope that there are people reading and just prefer to lurk.

Chapter Twenty  
The Mystery of Morgana

 

Deciding that directly inside the solar's doorway would be the best spot to place the rune circle, Merlin got down to work, while Arthur fidgeted in the background.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked his warlock friend, clearly agitated as he thought of what was to come.

Merlin looked up for a moment, willing to be interrupted. “Draw those curtains back, if you would. We want more light in here to dispel the gloom.”

“Don't we need it to be dark to notice the signs showing Morgana is one of the... undead?” Arthur tried to force a joke. His thoughts about his sister were ambivalent to say the least.

“Not really. Believe me. We'll know either way,” Merlin informed Arthur, who had gone to do his bidding. “But whatever happens, don't let Morgana see you're shocked.”

“Couldn't you give me a clue? Forewarned is forearmed, you know,” Arthur recited a mantra he'd repeated often to his young knights in training.

Merlin briefly stopped his preparations to glance up at Arthur. “A Shade is only clothed in human flesh.” He swept his hands over the painted circles. “These enchanted rune marks show them in their true form.”

“A skeleton?” Arthur asked, his voice and eyebrows rising. “Really?”

“Sort of... I'd say something in between, but she definitely won't look human.”

“And if she does?”

“Then she's not a Shade; now stop interrupting and let me finish.”

Yet Merlin had barely cast his spell over the circles when there was a knock at the door. He stood up and moved backwards to stand close by The King. There was always a chance this meeting would give Morgana the opportunity to attack Arthur, and yet she hadn't the previous night when she was in his company. However, there had been more people present then to protect The King. 

Merlin wasn't about to take a gamble with Arthur's safety and prepared to thwart any assault, though he was fairly confident that Iseldir's spell to rob Morgana of her magic was still potent.

Kay entered with Morgana, looking waif-like on his arm. “As requested, Sire,” Kay said with a slight bow.

Both Merlin and Arthur held their breath as the lady and her escort walked across the all important rune marks, barely noticing the strange patterns on the floor...

And Morgana remained... Morgana, her unblemished skin pale, and her dark hair neatly coiffed at the back of her head, showing her willowy and very human neck to full advantage. She looked delicate yet beautiful, and it was clear Kay thought so.

“King Arthur!” Morgana spoke first, sinking into a low curtsy, the green silk of her dress pooling around her. “Thank you for granting me this audience. I understand from talking to Merlin, that our relationship has been strained lately... and yet I cannot remember. If this is so, then I must apologise for any offence I have committed.”

While he listened to her talk, Arthur's eyes narrowed, studying her face and form. His sister had not changed one iota, which must mean she wasn't a shade, and he could feel Merlin remaining calm and contained by his side, which must mean Morgana was human... whatever else she was?

As was his habit, Arthur's jaw tightened while considering his reply. Finally, he spoke. “I'm sorry, Morgana, but to describe our relationship as strained is something of an understatement, and I'm certain an apology is not enough to excuse the crimes you have committed against me and mine.”

Arthur gazed at the twisted knot of her hair, while she stayed bowed on the floor before him, and he could not refrain from remembering how he had teased her as a child about her glorious mane of hair, which made her at different times proud and annoyed: frustrated when she was a tom-boy, but gratified when she was a teenager trying to attract a boy. Yet such memories were not helpful. He was the leader of his people. He needed to stay strong.

At last, Morgana looked up at her brother, her eyes awash with tears. “But I cannot remember any of these crimes of which you accuse me.”

“You are posing the question that you cannot be held accountable for actions you do not remember?” Arthur asked, his mind in a turmoil. If her offences were not so dreadful, then perhaps that might be true, but such was not the case.

“She has a point, Sire,” Kay spoke up, unwilling to believe the girl he had played with long ago could have become this terrible sorceress in the stories he heard told.

Throwing Kay a warning glance, Arthur spoke sternly. “Kay, you were not here. You know not of what you speak. If it were only my life Morgana had threatened, I might find forgiveness in my heart, but she has caused the death of so many people under my protection, many whom I have loved. I cannot ignore those facts.”

“Yet you have called a Grand Council to debate legalising magic?” Kay's remembered fondness for Morgana made him bold.

“Yes! That is correct, and I hold true to my word, but I will not excuse magic being used to harm or maim. Those who kill, using magic or not, will be brought to account.”

“Kay, this is exactly what the anti-magic cabal fear,” Merlin added his thoughts to Arthur's. “That sorcerers who do evil will do so with impunity. Neither Arthur nor I want that, and if we ignore Morgana's past actions, we could give carte blanch to others to do as they will.”

“At this very moment, we cannot afford to show weakness,” Arthur continued, his hands clenching and unclenching behind his back. “We would ruin all our hopes for success.”

“Then you would execute your own sister?” Kay questioned, horrified that his friend could be so callous.

Arthur drew back, feeling as if Kay had slapped him. Did Kay think he wanted this? “I didn't mention execution!”

“Execution? But you are not Uther. Why would you sentence me to death?” Morgana asked in disbelief, her skin blanched from pale to ghostly white. “What terrible crimes have I committed that you would consider executing me?”

Arthur took a deep breath, looking anywhere but at his sister. “Where do I start, Morgana? Perhaps with the time you joined forces with Morgause and Cenred and their immortal army. You killed hundreds of our people; threw Uther in the dungeons and stole his throne. If it hadn't been for Merlin's magic we would never have defeated you.” At last, he glanced at Morgana and was transfixed by the look of shock on her face. Yet it was because of her scepticism he continued. “Uther never recovered, you know. For all his faults, he loved you and you broke his heart. When he was mortally injured, your counter spell ensured that Merlin's healing enchantment was reversed. You killed our father...”

“No!” Morgana cut in, standing at last. “No, I couldn't! I wasn't in Camelot then.”

“You didn't need to be. You had an accomplice,” Arthur replied, his voice flat. “Agravaine! Though why he chose to follow you, I can only surmise...”

“Do you have proof he was my accomplice?”

“Morgana, I saw him marching with you into the Citadel alongside Helios and his mercenaries the second time you usurped the crown. Many people did. After we escaped, you sent him to hunt us down. Denying it will do you no good,” Arthur said, sliding into his father's chair before realising where he sat, yet he didn't have the energy to move. Agravaine's betrayal would always hurt.

Morgana wrung her hands together, desperation and a tragic acceptance edging her voice . “If you say so, it must be true, but, believe me, Arthur, I can remember none of this.”

“Yet you remembered you weren't in Camelot when Uther died,” Merlin said quietly.

“Excuse me?” Morgana swung on Merlin, as if she had forgotten he was there and fear flickered fleetingly in her eyes.

“You've just told us you weren't in Camelot.” Merlin held her startled stare with his sure gaze. “Do you know where you were?”

“I'm not sure,” she stammered, shaking almost imperceptibly like a spider's silken web in a morning breeze. “I see a shabby hut... in a forest.” Her eyes appeared blank, when suddenly she cried out with animation. “Perhaps that was where Alvarr imprisoned me.”

“No one imprisoned you. I saw you there,” Merlin intoned, taking no pleasure in this confrontation, but knowing it was needful. “You lived there of your own free will, though I'm sure you hated it. You discovered how to raise a shade and resurrected Lancelot, sending him to Camelot to destroy Arthur and Guinevere's marriage.”

“Were you entertained when I broke my betrothal and exiled Guinevere?” Arthur ground out, the pity he'd begun to feel for Morgana leeching away.

Merlin smiled grimly at Morgana. “Yet it was Guinevere who alerted me to your plot with Helios...”

“She did?” Arthur cut in, his brows frowning in puzzlement.

“She did. Helios captured her and tried to seduce her... He didn't succeed,” Merlin added quickly, seeing Arthur's eyes blaze ice blue with sudden rage. “Instead she escaped and warned me that Agravaine had passed the maps of the siege tunnels to Morgana and Helios.”

Another very heartfelt sigh escaped The King's lips. “And once again I didn't heed your warning, Merlin. How stupid was I?” he declared in self-disgust, turning to face his sister. “I allowed Agravaine to open the gates of Camelot to you and Helios... and because of that many of my people died... again! I was right to doubt my ability to be King!”

“I don't see why, Sire,” Kay finally spoke up, now looking askance at this ethereal but, clearly, deadly woman. “Seems to me a king, or any man should expect loyalty from his family, especially those he cares for.” Kay had no doubt that Arthur still harboured some feelings for his half-sister, and he felt a deep sadness for the adults these once carefree children had become. “What happened to you, Morgana?” he asked, hoping for some explanation which would excuse her guilt, but knowing there could be nothing.

But Morgana didn't answer... couldn't answer. She just stared in horror at the three men surrounding her: Merlin challenging, Kay shocked and Arthur... she could not discern what her brother was feeling. He sat with his head in his hands, his shoulders slumped, a picture of dejection.

Silently, unexpectedly, disdainful words found their way into her mind... 

~~What a joy it is to see you, Arthur. Look at you, not so tall and mighty now.~~

Her hands covered her ears, trying to shut out the sound, but the words echoed in her head regardless. Her own voice speaking...

~~You are going to die by Mordred's hand... But you won't die alone. I will stay and watch over you while the wolves gorge on your carcass and bathe in your blood...~~

She had spoken these hateful words and meant each one, but Merlin had stabbed her with a sword forged in a dragon's breath and she had died!

“No!” she screamed in terror. “No! I never wanted you dead, Arthur.” Yet even as she spoke, she knew her denial was false. Though none of it made sense; she remembered the speech, but not the where or why! 

Glancing around, she saw three pairs of eyes staring at her in astonishment. “You killed me, Emrys,” she whispered in shock and sadness, beginning to see the pictures of that time playing through her mind. Arthur on the ground beside her as Merlin stood above her, watching as she breathed her last.

But still she didn't understand. “If you killed me, how is it I'm alive?”

“That is what we would like to find out, Morgana,” Merlin answered. “Perhaps High Priestesses have more than one life.”

“I was a High Priestess,” she repeated slowly, but it was a statement of fact, not a question.

There was a deep, terror ridden silence in the chamber; the very air seemed oppressive. Finally, Morgana announced. “Saying sorry is not enough. Not nearly enough, I know.” Morgana appeared to shrink in on herself and she looked... old, as if the sorrows of ages rested on her thin shoulders. “You might find it hard to believe, Arthur, but I'm glad you're still alive. Do with me what you will. I can only assure you that I bear you no ill will now. Not any of you.” Her voice trailed off with a whispered groan.

Straightening up in his seat, Arthur made a tired movement with his hand, almost flicking her away. “Sir Kay,” he said formally. “Return the Lady Morgana to her cell.”

Kay stood frozen, as if waiting for another command.

“Go, Kay. Now!”

Bowing his head, Kay took hold of Morgana's arm and drew her, unresisting from the room. Stillness remained, while the two friends stared at each other. Arthur rose, shaking off the gloom.

“What do you suggest we do with her now, Merlin?”

The warlock shrugged before answering. “I'm assuming you won't have her executed?”

Arthur shook his head slowly from side to side. “I should, but I don't think I can. Killing her on the field of battle, while she was still trying to harm us was acceptable, but I don't think I can sentence this sad, confused woman to death.”

“And if she doesn't stay confused?”

“Then we rethink our options!” Arthur walked towards the door. “Monitor her, Merlin. I trust you and Iseldir can keep her from practising more of her dark arts, even if that is what she intends.” He stopped with his hand on the latch. “But you can't tell me that the Morgana we just talked to has evil in her heart.”

“I wouldn't try. I still don't understand what has happened, however I'm sure this Morgana is innocent, but whether she stays this way or not, I have no idea.”

Arthur nodded his head in agreement before opening the door. “Come, Merlin. We have other problems to occupy us for now.”

The two friends left Uther's chambers together, vowing it would be a long time before they ventured in there again... and in the shadows, it seemed that Uther's spirit wept.

*****

Sir Kay had every intention of following his king's instructions,yet as Morgana turned to him, her lovely eyes large in her heart-shaped face and a tiny mournful smile on her lips, she asked simply, without coercion, “I know you have your orders, but I've been locked in that cell for days. Is it possible we can make a slight detour on the way back. I promise I'll be good, but I will understand if you say no.”

“Morgana, you heard Arthur,” he said solemnly, before giving a rueful grin. “But you know I could never refuse you. Come. I'll take you back by way of the roof walk, though it's been raining hard, so be careful up there. I don't want to have to explain why your corpse is lying in the courtyard.”

“Perhaps that would be the best outcome... for everyone,” she said without guile. “Fear not, Kay. I'm not about to throw myself from the roof, but thank you. We need not stay out long. I would just appreciate some fresh air, wet or not.”

In silence they climbed to the highest part of the castle and began to slowly stroll by the parapet. Morgana was the first to speak. “I'm surprised to see you back here, Kay, but happy too. When did you return?”

The knight blushed slightly. “I arrived a few days ago, but left almost immediately on an errand for Arthur.” Kay had started to explain his mission when he remembered Arthur's warning. Although he was having difficulty believing his childhood friend was evil, he had heard the reports, and only moments ago, she had confessed. Perhaps it were better that he kept Arthur's intentions to himself. “I'd always planned on returning to Camelot, to become one of Arthur's knights. I heard news of an impending battle and I tried my utmost to come in time.”

Morgana turned her face to the sky, smiling as the clouds drifted by and the sun affirmed its dominance overhead. Rain droplets sparkled on the slate roofs and the air felt fresh and clean... or perhaps it was because she had been confined that she appreciated the brightness after the storm.

At her side, Kay watched her closely. Not for any sign of treachery, but he had always been fascinated by Morgana. “When word spread that both you and Arthur were dead, I refused to believe... You can't know how happy I am that both those rumours were unfounded.”

Morgana stopped and studied Kay's face, searching for the truth. “I can see how you would be pleased that Arthur still lived, but I think it would have been better had I remained dead. I pose only a problem for Arthur and Camelot...”

“Don't say that!” Kay cut in vehemently, before toning down his voice. “You are alive, then there must be a reason...”

“What reason could there be for a murderer to live on... and one who it seems is responsible for the death of thousands?”

“There will always be battles, Morgana. The Saxons grow ever stronger in this land; they were bound to fight Camelot...”

“But I should have stood alongside Arthur. After all, we are both Pendragons,” Morgana admitted quietly. 

“So I heard,” Kay gave a derisive laugh. “For all his moralising, Uther wasn't the upright king he liked to think himself.”

“He was a tyrant and I came to hate him... more than I could ever have believed possible!” she said, her voice hard, like iron striking against an anvil.

For the first time, Kay looked askance at Morgana, and as her eyes blazed in remembered rage, he felt that perhaps he had done wrong in letting her come up here. Maybe she really was a sorceress and she might fly away. Yet, in a lightening change of mood, Morgana laughed, a light tinkling sound which calmed his fanciful thoughts.

“Don't look so worried, Kay. I'm not about to start casting spells. To tell the truth, I can't even remember how to go about practising magic.”

From their perch high by the crenelations, Morgana looked down on the courtyard, which was growing busier by the moment now the rain had ceased and Camelot's normal life resumed. Watching the people go about their business with a lightness of step and smiles on their faces, a new perspective gradually dawned within her.

“Arthur is not Uther, and I really don't want to see my brother dead. In fact, now some of my earlier memories are returning, I would like to aid him and Merlin in their plans to bring magic back to Camelot. I might not remember being a High Priestess, but I never could condone executing people for simply having sorcery.”

“I never understood it either, but I suppose I was too young to know the rights or wrongs of it before I left,” Kay said, as if he were examining his opinion on the use of magic for the first time. “In Amorica, there were some good witches and some bad ones too. The good ones were tolerated, even revered in some cases...”

“And the bad ones?” Morgana tilted her head to look up into Kay's face as she asked the all important question.

“They were burned at the stake,” Kay admitted reluctantly. “They were usually guilty, but I always thought there might have been a more humane way of ending their lives.”

Morgana smiled, lightly touching Kay's hand which rested beside hers on the wall. “For a warrior, Sir Kay, you seem to have a tender heart.”

Kay sighed, thinking for a moment. “I don't believe the two are exclusive. In battle, you never consider the rights or wrongs of what you are doing. It's a case of kill or be killed. But afterwards, when the battle lust has subsided, I believe there is room for mercy. I know there are Warlords who don't live that way, which is why I wanted to give my fealty to Arthur. He is known throughout the five kingdoms and beyond as a fair and just ruler.” 

This time it was Morgana who was silent for a moment or two, but finally she straightened her shoulders as she acknowledged the truth. “I think he is. For so very long, I was blinded by anger and hatred... I think I might have been mad. Uther's legacy, perhaps. Now I am willing to accept I was wrong... and the question is, how do I make Arthur trust me once more?”

“No, Morgana. Unfortunately, the question is, do you deserve forgiveness and trust?”

Once again, Morgana's laugh rang out in the elevated air. “One thing I do remember, Kay. You always did have the annoying habit of being right! Now, take me back to my prison before you get yourself into trouble, and thank you for letting be spend a little time in the open air.”

As instructed, Kay quickly led Morgana back to her stark cell, where once again she thanked him. “Take care of Arthur, Sir Kay,” she said formally in the presence of her guards. “Now leave me to think how I can make reparation for my all my misdeeds.”

She turned and entered her prison, only to find a number of tapestries now adorned the walls, and a thick rug from the far east covered the floor by her bed, while a chest with some of her old clothes stood in a corner.

“Oh, Arthur, underneath your bravado, you always were a kind hearted soul,” she whispered to herself, while feeling shocked that she actually meant it. What could she possibly do now to win back the love he once held for her?

Tragically, she wasn't sure there was a path left for her which would bring her home.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have the time, please let me know what you think, whether it's good comments or bad. I can take constructive criticism... I think.


	21. The Queen and The Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur find help with dealing with Gwen's troubling dreams.
> 
> As some of you have asked for Guinevere to confront Morgana, I hope you will be pleased with the last scene in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank Annie and Typewriters who left comments on the last chapter. I'd also like to thank Khaireddin and the guests who left kudos. As always, you make me feel so much better about this story and my writing.
> 
> I also have to tell you that I'm going on a trip this week and next and I won't have much access to the internet. I will try very hard to post another chapter this Wednesday, but as I leave early the next morning, I'm not sure I'll have time. I will post a chapter as soon as I return. I'm not about to abandon this story before the end.

Chapter Twenty-One

The Queen and The Witch

When Arthur and Merlin had finished interviewing Morgana, Arthur decided he should go in search of his wife to find out what was troubling her, and, strongly suspecting she was beginning to remember the time she had spent under Morgana's control, he asked Merlin to accompany him.

As Gwen had swept out of the royal chambers mumbling some excuse about taking care of the visitors to Camelot, they first checked the busy council chambers, but to no avail. After a quick deliberation, their next destination had been the palace kitchens, assuming Gwen might be giving instructions to the cook, yet the kitchen servants had spoken only briefly to The Queen when she had stopped by earlier in the morning and no one knew where she had gone since. 

The head cook, a very big, sweaty and extremely perturbed woman, cornered her sovereign, wielding a large wooden spoon. It appeared Queen Guinevere had forgotten to return to discuss that evening's dinner menu and she was at a loss to know what to prepare for such a large gathering... and could his majesty be of any assistance? 

Backed up against a long table, Arthur tried to maintain his royal dignity and decreed that herb-crusted capons should be served along with a haunch of venison and spit-roasted suckling pigs. However, his knowledge of cooking being sparse, he quickly ran out of ideas, but with an amazing degree of self-preservation, he suggested that perhaps the chef was better placed than himself to know which vegetables should accompany those dishes. He then made a quick retreat from the over-heated room, hauling a compliant Merlin behind him.

“That woman is formidable.” Arthur wiped the sweat from his brow, leaning against the cool stone wall of the passageway. “Whoever thought planning a dinner could be so stressful, never mind preparing it.”

“I always said you never appreciated your servants, though she scares the pants of me,” Merlin huffed in reply, before offering Arthur some advice. “You really shouldn't have ordered those capons. You know they're your favourite, but you can't afford to eat too many now that you're unable to train as rigorously.”

“Merlin, are we discussing my weight again?”

Looking The King up and down, Merlin finally conceded. “Actually, you've lost quite a lot of weight since you were injured, but I'm just reminding you for future reference...”

“And I'm reminding you that I am still a king and you can't talk to me like that!”

“But you said I was your adviser and I'm just giving you the benefit of my counsel.”

“Merlin!” Arthur exclaimed, lightly cuffing his adviser around the head, but Merlin ducked and Arthur's hand collided with a very shocked George who had approached the pair in silence.

“Sire?” the servant asked, his martyred expression suggesting he was prepared to accept any abuse his king might see fit to dole out.

“George!” Arthur said, not knowing whether to apologise or burst out laughing, yet his gravitas won out. “I'm sorry, George. I didn't see you there and that... tap wasn't meant for you.”

“I'm glad, Sire. I would never seek to make you unhappy with the performance of my duty.” He gave one of his immaculate bows. “But perhaps you could help me, Sire. I need to talk to The Queen about the increasing numbers of guests who are still arriving, yet I have been unable to find her.”

“Me neither,” Arthur muttered. No wonder his Guinevere was so distressed. It seemed that almost everyone in the castle was expecting her to mend their problems, and he hadn't helped by scaring her half to death this morning. “George, Queen Guinevere is under a great deal of pressure right now, so I would be grateful if you could see to the accommodation of the new arrivals. It's my assumption these people are from the outlying villages and, since the citadel seems to be bursting at the seams, I wonder if they could be lodged in the taverns or in the homes of the townspeople. The royal exchequer will pay for their keep, of course, but if you could turn your considerable talents to making those arrangements, you will have the ever-lasting gratitude of your king.”

George gave one of his tiny smiles; there was nothing he liked better than showing off his competency. “I will see to it immediately, Sire. You can rely on me.” With another of his wooden bows he turned to go, but Arthur called him back.

“George, I would also appreciate your discretion regarding Queen Guinevere.”

“Sire, you and The Queen have my complete fidelity. I will say nothing.” With those final words, he hurried off to carry out Arthur's instructions.

“I didn't believe it possible, but I've grown quite fond of George over the years,” Arthur admitted, watching the little servant leave. “In a strange sort of way.”

“He's certainly loyal, and his heart is in the right place,” Merlin agreed, but quickly changed the subject. “Yet we're still no closer to finding where Gwen has gone... and Arthur, I think she needs us.”

“She does... but why didn't she turn to me, Merlin? She knows I love her and that I would do anything in my power to help her.”

There was a dread silence before Merlin spoke. “Perhaps Gwen believes she doesn't deserve your help.”

A strangled groan broke from Arthur's throat and his gaze was bleak. “We have to find her, Merlin.”

 

*****

 

At a loss to know where to look next, Arthur and Merlin decided to split up to scour the rest of the castle, which was no easy task. However, they were saved from a long exploration by meeting Geoffrey of Monmouth on the stairway.

“Good day, Sire,” he said, bowing formally and a little stiffly, due to his arthritic bones. “I trust you are well this morning.”

“Tolerably well,” Arthur replied, giving the old man a small smile which robbed his rather curt answer of its sting. “I wonder if you know where we could find The Queen? We seem to have misplaced her, and it will soon be time for the council to resume.”

“I believe Lady Walton and Mary Howden are with Queen Guinevere. I saw them heading towards the lady's bower.”

Arthur's eyebrows rose. There was a lady's bower in the citadel, but it was a room seldom used by Guinevere, as she chose to spend most of her private time in her husband's chambers, which had become the royal apartments since Arthur's coronation.

After thanking Geoffrey, the two friends went to find Guinevere, but here too they were thwarted. Amena and Mary sat huddled by the window, while around them groups of noble women talked in animated whispers.

The fraught atmosphere in the bower caused Arthur and Merlin to exchange worried glances, certain that some altercation had occurred. Thankfully, if there was a Lady Avebury, she had not journeyed to Camelot with her husband so couldn't support his cause by undermining Arthur's Queen. Yet perhaps some of the other visiting noblewomen could have upset Gwen.

Arthur crossed the room to his wife's friends, but before he had a chance to speak, Mary Howden interrupted.

“Your Highness, I don't wish to speak out of turn,” she said, almost forgetting to bob a quick curtsey, “but what is wrong with Guinevere? I've known her since she was a little girl and she is acting so unlike herself.”

Due to his anxiety, The King ignored Mary's question. To tell the truth, he didn't quite know the answer. Instead, he asked a question of his own. “She was with you?”

“Yes! Until a few moments ago when she burst into tears and fled the room.”

“Do you know where she has gone?” Arthur's lips thinned. “Merlin and I have been looking everywhere for her.”

“But what has happened, Sire?” Unfamiliar with royal protocol, Mary pressed her query home. “The Gwen I knew was caring and kind, but always in control...”

“She is still caring and kind... and lovely,” Arthur countered immediately. “That's why she is so troubled now.”

“Is she unhappy being Queen?” 

Unfortunately, Mary had chosen the one topic which Arthur dreaded hearing. The lines between his eyebrows deepened while his gaze turned inward. His Guinevere was the perfect queen, but it was his love for her and their marriage which had made her a target for Morgana. Perhaps it would have been kinder to have left her to Lancelot all those long years ago. Seeing her with someone else would have been almost impossible for him to endure, but she might have been happier and definitely safer. After all, when you love someone that is what you wish for them.

Merlin gave Arthur a glance before stepping forward to answer. “Mary, Guinevere loves Camelot almost as much as she loves Arthur... and the people adore her. I'm sure Gwen has never regretted her choice to become Queen of Camelot.”

If it were possible, Mary Howden looked more upset and she was about to persist with her interrogation when a kindly voice spoke at her side. “If we are to continue this conversation, might I suggest we do it somewhere more private.” Lady Amena kept her voice low as she glanced over the other ladies in the room, who were surreptitiously trying to eavesdrop. Clearly every one of them had witnessed The Queen's sudden, troubled exit.

“Arthur?” Merlin touched his friend's arm, causing The King to bestir himself.

“Yes, I agree,” Arthur replied, giving himself a mental shake. There was no use dwelling on what might have been. The truth was, Guinevere was both his wife and queen... his wise helpmate, and he doubted he could go on without her by his side. “Amena, Mary, will you accompany Merlin and myself?” At their hurried nods of assent, he stalked from the room, saying to the noblewomen who watched with curiosity and envy. “Ladies, you will excuse us. It seems my wife is a little indisposed. I trust you will be discreet, as I would hate to hear The Queen's name being bandied about in idle speculation.”

There were various words of assent, though Arthur had no doubt that whenever the door closed behind him, the gossip would begin. Didn't these women have anything better to do?

Once in the passageway, it was testament to Arthur's worry that he escorted his little group to the nearest alcove which afforded them a meagre amount of privacy. Coincidently, it was here in this recess during Uther's reign, where Arthur had assured Gwen his love wasn't due to an enchantment and that he would willingly give up his right to the kingdom for her. There was hardly an inch of this citadel which didn't invoke memories of their lives together. 

Quickly checking there was no one in the corridor, he lowered his voice and leaned closer to the ladies. “It's true. Guinevere is not acting normally, but understand that I love her dearly and would do anything to help her. She is a much loved queen, not just by me and her friends, but by all of Camelot.” Arthur looked at Merlin for reassurance, who quickly gave it with an empathetic smile. “However, Guinevere has been under a great deal of strain lately. Not just nursing the wounded and dying at the battle of Camlann, but afterwards when she knew I was missing and might be dead... and I don't think I have to mention that this Grand Council calls for a huge amount of organisation. She does have help in that sphere, but Gwen takes her responsibilities very seriously. Under normal circumstances, she is a perfect Queen... yet this situation is not exactly ordinary.”

“I can imagine; the place is full to bursting,” Mary commented, smiling sympathetically. “I doubt Camelot has had to accommodate quite so many visitors before.”

“Yet I don't believe that is the only reason for Guinevere's troubles,” Amena added, piercing the two young men with a wise, knowing stare. “I get the impression The Queen is capable of dealing with these onerous guests, if there was not something else troubling her... and don't mention the battle, nor the fact she thought you'd been killed, though I'm sure that scared her dreadfully at the time. All that is in the past; Albion won and you are alive, but Guinevere's emotional state is worsening.”

Amena watched Gwen's husband and her friend carefully as they gazed back at her like a couple of cornered rabbits. “Sire and Merlin, we only wish to help Guinevere. I know you have her best interests at heart, however, sometimes a woman needs some female friends to talk to, but we cannot comfort her if we don't know the full extent of her problems.”

Again the two men exchanged concerned glances, before Arthur had another look to be certain they were still alone. “Very well, we will be candid, but this must remain our secret.” He sighed in resignation, but knew Lady Amena was correct. “Some months ago, Lady Morgana succeeded in kidnapping Guinevere using sorcery, and though we managed to rescue her within a few days, I'm afraid my step-sister had already enchanted Gwen by subjecting her to...” But here Arthur halted, unable to go on as he contemplated what mental tortures his wife had undergone.

“Lady Amena,” Merlin took up the explanation. “You studied magic once, so perhaps you have heard of The Tiene Diaga?”

“Oh, good gracious! Indeed I have - a dreadful initiation.” The old lady's hand trembled when she reached out to touch the distressed husband's arm. “That poor sweet child; what torments she must have borne.” Seeing Arthur's expressive blue eyes open wide with horror, she decided not to elaborate. “We will say no more of that,” she said, shaking her head. “At least you managed to rescue Guinevere, though I am astonished. It would take a very powerful sorcerer to cleanse her soul.”

“It did,” Arthur replied softly, but with such depth of feeling no one could doubt his sincerity. “Merlin saved my wife's spirit long before he saved my life. I owe Merlin more than I can ever repay him and he has my ever-lasting friendship and support.”

“Which is as it should be,” Mary said practically. “Yet if Gwen was saved, why is it she is suffering still?”

Again the friends exchanged looks, wondering who would continue the account. Finally, Merlin chose to talk. “While she was under Morgana's control, she carried out actions which Gwen would never contemplate in her right mind. I don't think we need to go into details, but Morgana's orders were treasonous. When Gwen came back to us, it seemed her memory was wiped clean of these crimes, and Arthur, Gaius and myself decided it would be better for Gwen to leave things that way. However, these memories are resurfacing...”

“It started with nightmares,” Arthur took up the telling. “Very short, chaotic dreams which were easily soothed away. Lately, though, there have also been daydreams. Guinevere blanks out for moments at a time, with such a look of terror on her face, it chills me to the bone. She mentions the names of people she harmed when enchanted. She is so bewildered and hurt, yet she will not let me talk to her, nor comfort her. She runs from me,” Arthur finished mournfully, his gaze dropping to study his boots.

“That does not shock me,” Amena announced. “Those recollections were bound to occur, and perhaps it would have been better if you had spoken with her after the cleansing spell, explaining that she had committed these crimes, but she was not to blame in any manner.”

Defending their decision, Arthur bridled, though he did sound a little like a penitent school boy. “We discussed it with Gaius, and we all came to the same conclusion to protect Guinevere...”

Amena tutted. “Why is it men always think we have to be protected for our own good?” The older woman asked of the air around her.

Mary folded her arms across her chest. “We understand you thought you were doing the right thing, but obviously your good deed has backfired, and now I suggest you leave Lady Amena and myself to look after Gwen... Sire,” she added, though it was clear from her manner that she also saw him as a misguided boy.

Arthur protested, feeling a little hard done by. “We all agreed it was for the best. You must believe I would never do anything to cause Guinevere hurt. I love her more than I can express.”

Amena and Mary exchanged smiles, before Amena yielded. “Of course, we know that. It's plain to everyone who sees you with Gwen, but I don't think I'm wrong in assuming that Gwen doesn't have many close friends. And before you jump down my throat, I'm quite aware that Merlin and the knights care for her like a sister, but we feel Guinevere needs female companionship, and we don't mean these haughty noblewomen. So, if you have no objections, Arthur, we would like to help her?”

Looking completely nonplussed, Arthur could only nod his head until his tongue caught up with his thoughts. “Please do. If you have Guinevere's best interests at heart, I'm happy for you to talk with her, but do you have to know the things she did?”

“I don't think that will be necessary,” Amena offered, giving Arthur's arm a squeeze of gratitude. “We intend to listen to what Guinevere has to say, and we'd rather do that without preconceptions. Now off you go and leave your wife to us. She's in safe hands, I assure you.”

“You have to find her first,” Arthur announced with just a tiny show of sulking. He was used to being told what to do by Merlin or Guinevere, but not usually by women of his court, though he did accept that his wife was in need of some female friends. Since Sefa had disappeared, she had not even had a personal lady's maid, and that was wrong. 

Truth to tell, he'd thought Guinevere had a soft spot for Sefa, and she'd believed the young girl was coerced into acting against Camelot by loyalty to her father, who had died long since. Now magic was, hopefully, going to be tolerated, he wondered where Sefa was and if the maid would be prepared to return to Camelot and Guinevere's employ? He'd ask Merlin and Iseldir to look into her whereabouts and sound out her feelings. But until they'd found Sefa, perhaps he'd ask Mary to stay and keep Guinevere company, though she 'd most likely be anxious to return to her village and her ailing husband.

“Don't worry about that.” Arthur was snatched out of his musings by Amena's words. “I have a good idea where Guinevere has gone, and Mary and I should go after her.” 

Both women bobbed a quick curtsey and hurried off down the corridor, leaving Arthur and Merlin standing slightly mystified.

“Merlin, is that the second time Lady Amena has dismissed me?”

“I'd say so,” Merlin said, nodding his head in an exaggerated manner. “And, to tell the truth, I don't think it will be the last.”

Giving a quirky smile, Arthur sighed. “You're probably right, but as long as she can help Guinevere, she can treat me how she likes... within reason.”

“Yes, Sire,” Merlin said, snapping to attention.

They shared a slightly worried laugh, yet both felt Gwen would be safe with Mary and Amena. Walking in the other direction than the one the ladies had taken, they decided to head to the council chambers to sound out the general atmosphere before today's council meeting started. Somehow, in comparison, Avebury's opposition now seemed easier to handle.

 

*****

 

Guinevere's hands were clenched as she waited for the guards to open the cell. In fact, the soldiers had been rather reluctant to give The Queen access to the prisoner, but she had convinced them, without actually saying so, that she had permission from The King.

Of course she knew Arthur would be most upset by her plan, but she could no longer stand living in this state of disorientation. She knew she'd been kidnapped and enchanted, and she was beginning to suspect that she'd carried out some terrible acts while under the spell.

No, that wasn't quite right, she knew she had acted as a traitor to Camelot and to her husband, she just wasn't completely sure how. Now she was about to visit the one person who might be able to tell her exactly what crimes she'd been compelled to commit. Though, since the witch was claiming amnesia, she could come away from this meeting as lost as ever.

Guinevere's chin lifted in determination as the heavy door opened. It was better not to think in a negative way. For Arthur, for her friends and for the sake of Camelot, she had to put her demons behind her and move on, and she couldn't do that until she learned what those demons were.

The Queen moved cautiously into Morgana's room. She'd heard that wards had been put in place to eliminate her old mistress's magical powers, yet she couldn't help but tremble as she saw Morgana lying on her bed in the gloom.

There had obviously been some attempts to make the cell more comfortable, yet the one window high in the wall shed only a feeble light and there were no lamps or candles lit, though there was a wall sconce on either side of the door. If Morgana still had control of her magic, Gwen suspected these torches would be burning.

Before the soldier shut the door, Guinevere turned. “It's very dim in here. I can hardly see where I'm going. Please, could you light the torches?” The Queen was always polite, but clearly this was more of an order than a request.

However, the old sergeant thought to question his mistress. “Are you sure that's wise, Milady? The King asked us to make the cell a little more comfy, but we know what the Lady Morgana did with fire in the past.”

“We do,” Guinevere concurred. “But I'm sure if she could, Morgana would have already lit the torches.”

“Don't worry!” Morgana stated, sitting up straighter in her bed. “I have no powers of magic. In fact, I'm not sure I remember ever having them.” As Guinevere's expressive eyebrows rose, Morgana added quickly. “Oh, I no longer doubt what I've been told... but my memories of sorcery are somewhat fragmented.”

Morgana's statement put Guinevere in a quandary. If Morgana's lack of memory were genuine, then she wouldn't be able to answer her queries, so there was little reason for her to be here. Yet, for some unknown reason, she didn't want to leave. Truthfully, she wasn't sure what to do. In order to gain some breathing space, Gwen turned back to the guard. “If King Arthur has ordered the room to be furnished, perhaps a small candelabrum might be brought. Could you see to it? But in the meantime, light one of the torches.”

“Yes, Milady.” He quickly produced a flint box and the wall sconce blazed into thick smoky light, causing The Queen to blink. 

“And, Walter, perhaps the beeswax candles instead of the tallow,” Gwen suggested with a smile.

“Of course, Milady.”

The old soldier grinned, pleased that The Queen would know his name. Their queen was not one of your stuck-up noble types who looked down their noses at people like him, and for that, he and the majority of Camelot's ordinary population was very thankful.

Surprisingly, neither was The King who, unlike his father, seemed happier amongst his warriors than his councillors. One thing Walter was sure of, Arthur's soldiers would follow him to the gates of hell and beyond. They definitely wouldn't be giving his majesty a hard time in this Grand Council thing, which gave him food for thought.

Walter had been a citizen of Camelot all the days of his life. His father had been an elder of The Farrier's Guild, and he himself was a member, though, being a younger son, he'd gone to be a soldier. They had said some commoners would have a vote, and he wondered if the leading members of the Guilds would be included. He'd have to enquire and maybe rustle up some more support for King Arthur and Merlin. Walter's son had followed his example and become a soldier, and he'd told his father how The Emrys had saved his life, along with most of his squad, at Camlann. The least Walter could do was help Arthur and Merlin now.

However, while he passed on The Queen's request for good candles to a servant, he reflected he wasn't too thrilled with Queen Guinevere being shut in with the witch, even though she was acting more like a young Lady Morgana whose spunk he had admired in the old days. With that thought, he decided to leave the door open a slight crack and be on alert.

Both women within the cell noticed the door was left slightly ajar and, with some surprise, shared an amused, yet tolerant smile, understanding the reason. For moments, it seemed neither knew how to open the conversation, but finally Morgana spoke. 

“It is good to see you, my lady,” Morgana smiled again. “Yet it seems Walter doesn't approve of your visit.” There came a strangled, embarrassed cough from outside, but still the door didn't close. “Perhaps we should humour the guards, though I mean you no harm,” she added, standing, her willowy figure swaying somewhat. “How can I help you, Guinevere?”

Compassion and habit won out in Gwen's heart, and she stepped closer to steady Morgana. “Are you well? Perhaps you have not been fed...” But as she turned to issue another request, Morgana quickly replied.

“Please, I am fine, and Arthur has attended to all my needs.” She pointed to a screen in the corner of the room, where a wash stand could just be seen. “Even a privy, and it is emptied regularly. I've also been fed well, but it seems I have little appetite.”

“Perhaps you need some tempting.” Gwen couldn't believe she was talking of such mundane matters, but she didn't feel ready to broach the true reason why she'd come. “Have they offered you apple crispels? I remember you used to love them. I'll mention it to the cook...”

“Gwen, why are you being so good to me?” Morgana looked uncertain. Once, she and Gwen had been close, but from what she'd been told, she'd treated Guinevere very badly in recent years, and some of her own foggy memories confirmed that their relationship had soured.

“Because there was a time we were friends, I think, and because I want to know what you did to me in that tower. No one else will speak of it.” Gwen's hands bunched in the silk of her skirts. “Arthur says I was rescued, and that's all that matters, but I know that's not true.”

“Maybe he is protecting you from something it would be better for you not to know,” Morgana suggested. There was an edge to her voice, but she was not being unkind.

At that, Gwen's spine straightened and she made her hands uncurl. “I am not a foolish woman who needs shielding from the truth. Besides, I have nightmares and more... daydreams which are so sharp in my mind...”

“So clear that you believe they are memories?” Morgana said, echoing The Queen.

“You understand?” Gwen caught Morgana's gaze and the women stared at each other. “You have them too?”

Morgana didn't seek to break away from Gwen's questioning eyes. “Yes, but I fear my flashes of memory are more terrible than anything that might trouble you.” At last, Morgana moved, turning aside, not looking at her erstwhile friend as she spoke. “Whatever you recall doing, it was never you. Your mind was under the control of a powerful sorceress; a High Priestess.”

“That High Priestess was you, that I do know.”

Swallowing the horror that threatened to choke her, Morgana blurted out. “I do not say I remember everything, but yes, I now believe that is the truth. I wish it wasn't, and I am sorry for any pain I caused you.”

“And you think apologising makes everything fine?”

Morgana swung back to Gwen. “No, never! I have already told Arthur I do not expect him to forgive me, nor anyone in Camelot to forgive what I have done... whatever that might be.” She looked around the cell, as if she might find the truth lurking in the shadows. “When I discovered I had magic, I was lost and terrified of what Uther might do to me if he found out. His own ward...”

“He loved you. He wouldn't have executed you. ”

A strangled laugh escaped Morgana. “Can you be certain of that, Gwen?”

The Queen hung her head, unsure of her answer, at first, but then she remembered the last months of Uther's life. “I think so.” She stared once again at Morgana, a strange mixture of censure and sorrow in her eyes. “There is no doubt your betrayal of him broke his spirit. Uther was never the same man after Arthur rescued him from the dungeons where you had cast him. He was ill from that day forth. Only the threat to Arthur's life roused him, and he was killed protecting his son. The assassin's knife might have pierced Uther's heart, but it was already broken by you.”

“What can I say. I have no excuse. I allowed my fear to turn into hatred... such hatred.” She shook her head, yet she didn't appear completely repentant. “I watched in horror as he executed people suspected of sorcery and even those who might have sheltered them. Your own father was killed!” 

At those words, Guinevere flinched, but she also realised that Morgana knew more than she was prepared to admit. “You have no need to remind me of that,” she countered, her voice and expression severe.

“Did you not hate Uther for that?” Yet when Guinevere refused to answer, Morgana continued. “Then I met my sister, and she showed me how I could fight back. Wouldn't you have taken that chance? Wouldn't you have tried to kill Uther?”

“No!” There was another silence as Gwen considered her reply. “Merlin once asked me that, too, and I will tell you what I told him. If I'd tried to take revenge on Uther that would have made me a murderer. That would have made me as bad as him... as you became a tyrant, just like him.”

Taking a couple of steps towards Gwen, Morgana tried to justify her choices, even if she didn't remember clearly what actions she had taken. “I only wanted to bring magic back to Camelot, so that people like me need not live in fear of death.”

“Then why didn't you turn to Arthur?”

“What good would that have done? He has been king for years, yet he is only now trying to repeal the laws against sorcery,” Morgana threw at Gwen, her words striking like a knife. 

“Can you blame him, Morgana?” Gwen retorted, sharply. “You and Morgause hardly gave him cause to change his mind about magic. You created an immortal army and killed thousands of people, soldier and commoner alike. Was that a good example of sorcery?”

Now it was Morgana's turn to stumble. She knew she was on dangerous ground, as if she stood on the edge of a cliff... and, if her memory returned completely, she would fall into a pit of self-derision. She took refuge in prevarication.

“I've already told you I don't remember...”

“And I don't believe you.” The Queen walked regally to the door before she turned and looked once more at Morgana. “You see, I know exactly what you are going through, if your amnesia is genuine. Shadowy pictures haunt your sleep and you catch yourself in the daytime recalling things you would rather not be true... yet you know without a doubt that they are.”

She laid her hand on the latch ready to leave Morgana behind. She had been wrong to come here.

Only, as she did so, Morgana spoke again. “But what I said earlier is true. You were not to blame for whatever you did. I believe I enchanted you and forced you to obey my will. It would have been impossible for you to resist. You were totally innocent, Gwen.”

Without glancing backwards, Guinevere spoke softly. “Thank you for that. Perhaps, given time, I can learn to live with my evil deeds, but I can never totally forgive myself. Goodbye, Morgana.”

She pushed the door open and strode through, eager to be gone, but she heard Morgana's final words, seeming to drop like stones into a lake, before Walter slammed the door shut. 

“No more can I.” 

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this was quite a long chapter and I hope you approved. Please let me know how you feel about it. Perhaps you felt the conversation between Gwen and Morgana should have been more challenging, but neither women are feeling very confident at the moment.
> 
> Comments are very welcome.


	22. Rumours and Innuendos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promised, I'm posting on Wednesday, though slightly earlier. 
> 
> This is a shorter chapter and another confrontation between Arthur and Merlin and the very annoying Lord Avebury. Hopefully you'll enjoy the other supposition it presents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the guests who are leaving kudos and for Annie's continued and highly valued comments. I look forward to hearing what you have to say, Annie.
> 
> Please remember that I'll be away from the computer and the internet for ten days, so this will be my last post till after I return from my holiday, or vacation for those who live in the US.

Chapter Twenty-Two  
Rumours and Innuendos

The King and his advisor found their way to the small council chamber where, breakfast over and the tables now removed, many of the great and good of Camelot still gathered in groups, probably discussing the progress of the debate on magic. Lord Avebury was in the centre of the largest band and holding forth on the evils of sorcery, relating how his 'dear' brother had died at the hands of a witch who'd been treating his injured leg, a wound sustained in the defence of Uther's territory.

Having heard the story from Leon and from Gaius, Arthur was sure there was some doubt about the cause of the youngest brother's death, and he knew for certain that Brennan Avebury wasn't present at the time. From where this overconfident lord was getting his detailed information was certainly a mystery. The other point which Arthur knew without a shadow of doubt was that Avebury had never held his brother dear. 

Yet the contentious lord shocked The King further when he continued his harangue about sorcerers, suggesting Merlin had only cured his sovereign temporarily in order that a grateful king would legalise magic. Once the powerful sorcerer had what he wanted, he would allow Arthur to die, and Camelot would be at the mercy of magic users again, since no one could expect Queen Guinevere, a much loved... but not a true royal, to be able to stand against their power.

“Then it's fortunate that your assumptions are completely without foundation, Lord Avebury,” Arthur said, his jaw taught, as he walked through his courtiers towards Avebury.

The nobleman turned, his curling hair oiled as sleek as an otter's pelt, and bowed condescendingly to his monarch. “Sire, I only speak of the fear which is in my heart, and there are many in Camelot who share my apprehension,” Avebury replied, trying to sound genuine, yet failing miserably.

Arthur grew more certain each time he spoke to the arrogant noble that the man had a hidden agenda and, judging by the frown which fleetingly crossed Merlin's face, the warlock agreed. 

“You have no need to fear, my lord,” Merlin spoke up, bowing his head slightly and carefully schooling his expression. He really disliked Avebury, yet it was probably best if the lord was unaware of his and Arthur's suspicions. “I have no intention of hurting The King.”

“Indeed, Lord Avebury, you can trust Merlin...”

“Trust a sorcerer?” The noble interrupted scathingly. “Only a fool would do so!”

The pulse in Arthur's neck beat rapidly and his eyes turned to ice. “Yet I trust Merlin implicitly. Are you suggesting I am a fool?”

Avebury almost groaned. Clearly, he also had no intention of showing his true intentions, but the man was too proud to be contrite. “No, not entirely, Sire, though perhaps you are a little inexperienced in kingship, or beguiled by Merlin's enchantments. Your father would never have allowed himself to be taken in thus.”

Arthur's hand dropped to his belt, his fingers twitching over the empty space where his sword would normally hang. Just as he'd foretold, Avebury was insinuating he was under Merlin's spell. How he would love to wipe that smug smirk off the man's face, yet judging by his earlier escapade, he doubted he was fit enough to take on even this elderly noble who was choosing to goad him. Besides, it was too soon to confront Brennan Avebury; they needed to give him enough rope to hang himself. Yet he could not forbear to issue a warning.

“Merlin saved my life using magic, but I am not enchanted. My body might be weakened by my injury, though it will not always be so, and you would do well to remember that, Avebury,” Arthur said deliberately, his voice edged with steel and cutting as sharp as Excalibur. His threat of dealing out marshal retribution might only be wishful thinking, but he was fairly certain that was not common knowledge. “However, my mind is sound, so I suggest you keep your opinions for the debating hall and desist from insulting your king lest you be charged with treason.”

Aware his rage was bubbling close to the surface, Arthur marched out, his face stony, yet he couldn't resist one last rebuke. He turned in the doorway till he pinned Avebury with a frost blue glare. “And had you been better acquainted with my father, you'd know that he would have had your head for your insolence. I am my own man, but even my patience can run out!”

In the corridor, Merlin hurried to catch up with Arthur's stride. “Ye gods, Arthur. I was sure you were about to throw down the gauntlet, yet you kept your temper in check...”

“I'm not a complete idiot,” Arthur replied, throwing a haughty glance at Merlin, but spoiling the effect by admitting honestly, “but for a brief second, I did wish for my strength to return so I could've wiped that insincere look off his supercilious face. I did come close to having him thrown in the cells for a night, though.”  
“What stopped you?”

“Knowing that was exactly what he was hoping for.” Arthur shot his warlock a sideways glance. “Merlin, you're well aware the members of the Grand Council can state their opinions on magic with impunity, and Brennan Avebury is taking every advantage of that fact.” The King continued his walk to the great hall, though his hand rested on Merlin's arm. “I believe he's hoping I'll break my amnesty in a fit of temper... but I refuse to take the bait.”

“That's good to know. I was afraid I might have to step in...”

Arthur stopped, swinging to face Merlin, his hand tightening on the thinner man's arm. “Merlin, you must not! You can't let him provoke you into using your magic against him. Remember that sorcery is still outlawed, and I will not have you at Avebury's mercy. He would demand full reparation, and I will not see you executed.”

“I understand. I've always understood.” Merlin offered a gentle smile. “It was why I kept my magic a secret for so long...”

“You didn't want to put me in that position. I know,” Arthur said nodding, returning the smile, though his went slightly awry. “Merlin for saving my army, for saving my life, but most of all for saving Camelot, your safety is sacrosanct... and if Avebury tests my resolve then he will find himself exiled or dead...”

Fighting back the lump in his throat, Merlin said with as much brightness as he could muster, “Then let's not give him the opportunity to force your hand, and we can do that best by discovering what he's really up to.”

“I completely agree, Merlin, but I still haven't found my wife...” Arthur appeared thoroughly crestfallen, though within seconds a twinkle lit up his eye. He placed his arm around his friend's shoulder, suggesting with a smirk. “Merlin, you know that thing that you do: the path finding thing... I don't know why we didn't think of it before!”

 

*****

 

Although a little sceptical, Merlin decided to try to 'sense' Gwen's presence, but the pictures which came into his mind and the words which accompanied them stunned him into silence. He stood still, unable not to listen, though he was sure he shouldn't.

“Think, my dear. When was your last time of the month?”

“Gwen, is it possible you are with child?”

Merlin felt like the worse kind of eavesdropper!

“Merlin!” An alarmed Arthur had grabbed both his shoulders, and a disconnected part of Merlin's brain registered that his king's grip was still strong. “What's wrong? Can you see her?”

The young warlock shook himself back to his own reality. “Yes,” he forced out, staring at his friend, trying not to grin idiotically and not to pass on the news he had just overheard... though to be honest, he hadn't heard Gwen's answer. Besides, information such as this should come to Arthur from Guinevere herself. But, clearly, just one yes was hardly going to satisfy Arthur who appeared to be on the verge of having a fit. “Yes, she's fine. Mary and Amena have found her. They're in your chambers...”

“Come on then. Let's go.” Arthur's grip on Merlin loosened, but he pulled his friend in the direction of the stairs and the royal apartments. “We still have a little time to talk to her before the council starts.”

Merlin dragged on Arthur's arm.

“What?” The King demanded. “Are you telling me the truth? Guinevere is well, isn't she?”

“Yes! It's just that she's with Amena and Mary... and they're talking.”

“What about?” Arthur asked, his curiosity piqued.

Merlin's brain flapped about ineffectually. “Things! You know...”

“No. I don't know! Is Amena talking to her about what she did when she was enchanted?”

“Probably...”

“Probably! What's that supposed to mean?” Arthur's voice rose. “Some sort of warlock you are!”

“I did only listen for a minute,” Merlin offered, in hope rather than expectation that he could placate The King. Once the stupid prat got the bit between his teeth, there was no stopping him... and he really didn't want to tell Arthur the news, if there was any news to tell.

“So? What did you hear?”

“Nothing!”

“Nothing?” Arthur backed off and took a turn about the corridor to calm his racing thoughts, before returning to his interrogation of Merlin. “You heard something.” His finger wagged under Merlin's nose. “I know because you looked like you'd just walked into a wall.”

“They're discussing Gwen's health.”

“Gwen is ill?” Arthur's body froze.

“I didn't hear anyone say that, but she is very stressed and we already know her memories are coming back and that has to make her nervous,” Merlin suggested, trying to keep calm. “Arthur, you've already agreed that Amena and Mary should talk to Gwen, so I think you have to give them time to discover how they can help her. I'm sure they'll succeed.”

In fact, if what he'd overheard was true then Guinevere would be overjoyed... and probably Arthur too; once he'd got over the shock of going to be a father. Though Arthur would feel fear as well, since his own mother had died in childbirth. At least, this baby's conception was natural. He'd no doubt have to remind Arthur of that a few times.

Arthur was nodding, seeming to agree with Merlin's estimation. “Guinevere will probably be more comfortable talking to two women.”

Merlin's eyebrows rose. Why did Arthur jump to that conclusion? Surely nothing he'd said had given away what might be the cause of Gwen's indisposition.

“After all,” Arthur continued, “Lady Amena knows quite a lot about magic and enchantments, and, though they don't see each other often, I think Gwen regards Mary as a mother figure.”

“I understood they'd known each other for a long time, but I never knew how they came to be friends,” Merlin said, very interested, happy to steer the conversation away from the cause of Gwen's ailment.

“Mary worked with Guinevere's mother in Avebury's household... well the old Lord Avebury's that is. After Gwen's mother died, Mary took care of her children for a time but, when her husband John Howden was called back to Longstead, she went with him. They might not visit much... well hardly ever now, which must be hard on Guinevere, but I know Gwen will always be grateful for the support Mary gave her back then.”

“I didn't know that, but it must have been nice for Gwen having a woman look after her when she lost her mother. No wonder they're close.”

“And they should still be close. Guinevere shouldn't have lost contact with all her old friends because she's royalty,” Arthur announced, his jaw set. “I'm determined Guinevere should have a circle of her own friends around her, and not just courtiers. Once we sort out this Grand Council, I mean to talk to Guinevere.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Merlin agreed, believing Gwen would indeed need people she trusted around her, and somehow the knights didn't quite fit the bill.

But now The King had another flash of inspiration. “You know, Merlin. I've just thought of something else. Since Mary worked for old Avebury, perhaps she's heard of this Daman. We should ask her...” Arthur turned to head for his chamber again, but once more he was stopped by Merlin.

“She might... but don't you think Guinevere should be Mary's top priority now? It won't hurt us to wait till after the meeting to ask Mary. I mean, it's not like we can confront Avebury in the council, or that it would help us even if we did.”

“You're right, of course. Amena and Mary should take care of Guinevere... and you know, I don't think there's any reason that Guinevere should have to sit through another meeting of irate noblemen repeating their views, because, be sure of it, Merlin, that's what Avebury intends.”

“Then we'll just have to hope that we have enough supporters to contradict their prejudices.”

“And pigs will fly, Merlin,” Arthur said, sounding depressed, yet he suddenly laughed. “Though no doubt if you had anything to do with it, pigs would fly!”

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you don't mind this shorter post. I'd be overjoyed to read any reviews.
> 
> I'm sorry you'll be kept waiting for a little while till my next post, but I will be back. I'd never leave a story unfinished.


	23. Dissension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Merlin find support for the return of magic and an old friend of Merlin returns to help them in their quest.
> 
> There is another short telepathic conversation between the friends and again denoted thus :- ~~....~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back from my trip, which I thoroughly enjoyed. I've been busy doing laundry etc, but I did find some spare time to post a chapter this Sunday. Hopefully, I'll be back to normal posting schedule this week.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Dissension

That afternoon, the grand hall was crowded again, though there seemed to be a certain air of resignation amongst the people gathered. Certainly, there were those who looked like they had something to say, and quite a few appeared to have an axe to grind, but amongst many nobles and commoners there was an acceptance they were there only as witnesses. Everyone, however, believed The King's promise that each would have a vote, and many believed they had heard enough of the arguments to cast that vote.

Yet, after the customary opening speech given by Geoffrey of Monmouth something unexpected happened. A young commoner came forward from the body of the hall and asked for permission to speak, which he was granted very swiftly by Lord Geoffrey in the hope of stalling another of Avebury's rants.

“My name is Bryce, the thatcher from the village of Longstead in the Feorre Mountains. I came here with Mary Howden to represent my village in the place of her husband, the village elder. I have already registered my documents with your scribes and they have been accepted.” The young man spoke quietly, almost apologetically.

“Bryce has been licensed to vote in John Howden's stead, Sire,” Lord Geoffrey pronounced.

“I'm glad that has been established,” Arthur replied, genuinely happy to have another of his supporters stand and be counted. “You have something relevant to tell us, Bryce?”

“Yes, Sire,” Bryce said more loudly, growing in confidence as King Arthur smiled on him. He had met King Arthur briefly once before, but he'd been ill and his memory of that time was fairly vague. “Sir King, as you might remember, some years ago our village was struck down by a strange sickness.”

“I do indeed,” Arthur encouraged the thatcher.

“You sent Merlin to aid us and he quickly realised the disease was not a normal one...”

“What's this?” Avebury cut in, unable to keep quiet and Arthur winced at his harsh tone. “Are we to believe that Merlin is also a physician?”

Trying to remain patient while inside he itched to silence Avebury for good, Arthur replied, “Merlin has studied medicine under Gaius for many years, and even before we knew he had magic, many of my knights were thankful for his skills with a needle. Now, Bryce of Longstead has the floor, and it's my judgement we should listen to what he has to say. Please go on, Bryce,” Arthur instructed, before Avebury could object. 

Lord Avebury seemed much in love with his own voice, but this time he recognised Arthur's barely hidden irritation and kept quiet.

“Thank you, Sire,” Bryce said, standing taller. “As I was about to say, Merlin soon realised the victims had fallen prey to a powerful magic. I was one of those afflicted, and I'm told that a number of your knights were attacked by the lamia as well...”

“What's a lamia?” There was another interruption, but this time it came from Sir Kay.

Arthur swallowed, but, at least, he felt this intrusion was justified. “Gaius would you explain for the benefit of the council, please?”

“Of course, Sire. A lamia is a creature of magic created by the high priestesses of the Old Religion by taking the blood of a young girl and mingling it with a serpent. These monsters had been in existence for hundreds of years, though I'd believed, back then, that all had died out. Obviously, I was wrong. These creatures have the power to beguile men, before sucking the life force from their victims by a kiss and they are ravenous. This was the creature which had attacked Longstead and your knights.”

Arthur nodded, watching as his people learned of yet another monster of magic. “Gaius, do you think it's possible that there are other lamias out there?”

“It's entirely possible, Sire. We cannot know for sure what is lurking in the known lands or beyond.”

“Thank you, Gaius,” Arthur said, allowing the murmuring in the hall to continue for some moments before addressing the man from Longstead. “I'm sorry for yet another interruption, Bryce, but I felt the people should understand what had invaded your village. Please continue with your story.” 

“There isn't much left to tell, Sire. As I was unconscious, I don't know much of what happened in between, but I heard that you, Sir King, killed the creature, and Gaius and Merlin found a cure for the sickness. Good magic destroyed the bad, and myself and the people of my village are very pleased that it did.”

There was a general clamour of approval as Bryce finished, but not unexpectedly, Avebury was ready with his answer. “But you can't deny that dark magic had infected your village in the first place. It's clear to me....”

Arthur rose from his throne and found himself repeating his statement of yesterday. “Avebury, I think this council has already established that dark magic exists. It is evil and should and will not be tolerated. However, Bryce's experience shows that good magic can triumph over bad, and that on many occasions is the only method we have to counteract the evils of The Old Religion.” 

“But did you not slay this lamia? Without using magic? Surely that proves Uther was right and sorcerers should be executed.” Avebury folded his arms across his expansive chest, confident he had made his point.

Arthur closed his eyes, wondering how many times they needed to hash over this same argument, yet he couldn't allow Avebury's views to go unchallenged.

“I did kill the lamia, but I could not have cured my men. It took magic to do that.” Actually, he didn't know if that was true, but as Gaius and Merlin had treated the victims, he was fairly certain magic was used in some manner. Arthur sighed deeply and continued. 

“For over twenty years, my father waged war against sorcery and yet this incident occurred after his death. Despite his relentless pursuit, dark magic survived. It is clear to me that his quest to remove magic from Camelot failed.” 

The King paled as he said those words. He couldn't deny that his father was flawed, was actually deranged in his stand against magic, yet, for all that, he was averse to decrying his father in public... again. “Black magic can only be defeated by its opposite pole, which is what Merlin, myself and my supporters propose. It would be foolish of us, indeed, if we thought that all malevolence - magic or not - could be wiped totally from this kingdom.” Arthur turned his attention to the hall in general. “This Grand Council has been called to debate the proposal that we arm ourselves with good magic against those who wish us ill. Is this not so, Merlin?”

Merlin rose quickly to stand with Arthur. “It is, Sire. No matter how much you, or anyone try, it is impossible to erase magic from the world. Magic is in the very fabric of the earth we live in; it is part of the very air we breath.”

Merlin clasped his hands before him, the long blue sleeves of his robe draped over them, hiding the fact that they were trembling a little. He attempted not to dwell on the fact that the result of this council would determine whether he would be allowed to stay with his friends in the place which he had come to believe was his home. “Magic just is. It is neither good nor evil. I cannot deny that in the wrong hands, sorcery can be a curse upon the land, but I promise you this, while I have breath in my body, I will fight against that evil.”

“As do I and my followers!” Iseldir came to stand by the foot of the stairs.

“And if you have use for an old woman, my wife, Lady Amena, has promised to support you.” Lord Walton moved to stand alongside Iseldir.

“Arthur, you and Merlin have always been in my care and will be till the day I die,” Gaius stated, taking a step forward, believing it time to come into the light at last.

There was a bustle from the doors at the rear of the hall as a slender man pushed his way forward, throwing off his hood. “My lord king, you might not remember me, but I told Merlin that one day our paths might cross again. It's my opinion that time is now.” Arthur watched the prepossessing figure come closer, yet as Merlin showed no sign of worry, he was content to let this stranger approach. “My name is Gilli... and I have magic, and I place it at your disposal.”

Another hubbub spread throughout the gathering. The newcomer looked vaguely familiar, though only a few people actually remembered where they had seen him before. Arthur was one of them, and the memory was slightly disturbing. His eyes narrowed.

“I know you!” he said. “You were a contestant in the all-comers tournament a number of years ago. In fact, you fought in the final against my father... who beat you.” The King confronted Gilli at the bottom of the steps. “If you had magic, why didn't you use it to defeat him?”

“My lord, I cannot say I wasn't tempted.” Gilli squared his shoulders; he would not act ashamed. “After all, if Uther had known I had magic, he would've killed me without a thought. But my father had taught me that magic should never be used for gain... and while I might have been on the verge of forgetting his example, someone else reminded me.” Gilli's pointed gaze slid passed The King to Merlin. “Someone who foretold that one day you would recognise the goodness in magic and strive to return it to this land, which is why I am here.”

“Yet sorcery is still against the law in Camelot,” Avebury reminded the audience yet again, while pointing at the slight, self-confessed sorcerer. “This man should be arrested!”

Round the perimeter of the hall, the guards came erect and looked towards their king, causing Arthur to raise his hand. “Only I will give that command, Lord Avebury. I've promised an amnesty for anyone of magic who attends this Grand Council, and I will not go back on my word. This man has done nothing wrong. In fact, it appears to me that he has shown a great deal of restraint in the past, and if no one here knows of any crime with which he could be charged, he is welcome in Camelot.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over the assembly, while people surreptitiously checked their neighbours to see if this sorcerer, or any other, would be denounced, but no one spoke up. 

Satisfied that Gilli posed no danger, Arthur offered the man his hand. “I accept your offer of aid, for the present, though I must remind you that the council might vote to retain the laws against magic. However, you have my word that for the duration of the council you are safe and, if against my wishes the current law stands, you will be given time to leave my kingdom.” 

“Thank you, Sire.” Gilli clasped The King's hand, proud and amazed that he could be part of the process of returning magic to the land. “I accept those terms gladly.”

“Good! I'm pleased”! Arthur remounted the steps, saying in an aside to Merlin. “Can you find Gilli somewhere to stay?” At Merlin's nod, Arthur faced his people, all those who had answered his summons to the council.

“Members of the Grand Council of Camelot, over the last few days, I believe you have heard all you need to know about the good and evil of magic. More discussions would simply be a repetition of some members' polarised ideas. I'm closing today's meeting, and I would ask you all to go away and consider very carefully all you have heard in this hall. Talk to others, but do not let your minds be swayed by more powerful personalities. Be true to your own heart, and should anyone seek to intimidate you, do not be afraid to report such behaviour to myself, my advisers or my knights. Coercion will not be tolerated by members on either side of the debate. Be warned, I will throw any bully in the cells and they will lose their right to vote.”

“You are closing the session? But what if we haven't finalized our arguments?” Avebury shouted, unable to hide his anger. “We were told we would all get a chance to speak.” 

“Lord Avebury, it's my belief you've made your opinions very clear to everyone attending this council.” Arthur ground out, barely quelling his dislike of the noble. “Do you have any new information which is relevant to the issue, or do you need more time to rep... express, I mean express your opinion?”

“Perhaps his majesty is not yet fit enough for the... cut and thrust of debate?” Avebury asked snidely.

~~Perhaps some of us are not so enamoured of my lord's voice as he seems to be himself.~~

Arthur almost burst into laughter as he heard Merlin's voice in his head.

~~I couldn't have said it better myself, but I need to get out of here before I throw my gauntlet down at his feet. I think there are many here who are sick of listening to his... spew. What do I do, Merlin?~~

~~Nothing, leave it with me!~~

“You are correct, Lord Avebury. Our king decided to train this morning, so he could resume his role as the commander of Camelot's army as soon as possible,” Merlin said, speaking in his most conciliatory voice. “However, since his injury was extremely serious, and King Arthur is a most conscientious monarch who desires only to serve the people of this kingdom, he over reached himself.” Merlin regarded the crowd before him and was pleased to see many nodding their heads in sympathy and agreement. “As his physician, I recommended that this afternoon's session be kept short and I'm sure all his dutiful subjects understand his need to rest. Do you find that unreasonable, Lord Avebury?”

Fleetingly, Avebury's eyes narrowed dangerously at Merlin before he bowed with exaggerated reverence. “Of course not. I misunderstood King Arthur's intentions. I assumed he was calling an end to the council.”

“Not yet, Avebury,” Arthur informed his opponent. “Anyone who wishes to continue these discussions, please feel free to remain in the hall to do so. Sir Geoffrey of Monmouth will take the chair, assisted by Sirs Leon and Percival. But remember, I expect a civilised debate and my knights have my authority to expel anyone who does not heed my warnings.”

There was a general hum of conversation throughout the hall which was brought to a halt when Arthur raised his hands once more.

“I still believe that many of you will have already made your choice, but I understand the gravity of the decision you are being asked to make. There will be no formal meeting tomorrow morning, but those who still feel they need time, or more information before casting their vote are welcome to use the hall for discussions. Anyone wanting to formally address the council should give their names to the scribes and they may do so tomorrow afternoon before the reckoning. We will meet back here in forty eight hours to cast our votes!”

Not waiting to witness the reaction to his unexpected announcement, Arthur strode from the hall followed quickly by Merlin and leaving the rest of his retinue in some confusion behind.

*****

“What do you think you are doing,” Merlin demanded, catching hold of his king's arm.

With another huge sigh, Arthur halted, looking disdainfully at Merlin's hand which rested on his sleeve. “What do you think?” His voice was equally derisive.

Merlin, however, wouldn't allow himself to be sidetracked by one of Arthur's sullen moods. “Did you really just try to close the council?” And when The King refused to answer, he persevered, sounding just as outraged as Arthur. “Why did you set a date for the vote?”

For some seconds there appeared to be a stand-off, until Arthur finally yielded. “To tell the truth, I have no idea.” The fight went out of Arthur as he continued plaintively. “I only know I can't listen to another homily from Avebury. It's the same every time, Merlin. Someone speaks up for magic and Avebury repeats his objections with the same amount of bile as always. I'm sick of it, Merlin, and I think many of the people in that room are too,” he said, pointing back the way he had come.

“But that's a good thing, Sire.”

Merlin felt it diplomatic to give Arthur his due title for the present. Arthur might have changed a lot in the past years, and even more in the last weeks, but there were still times when he took refuge in his rank; as now, when he was tired, worried and worn down by events.

“Don't you see, Arthur? The more Avebury fumes the more level-headed people he upsets and they'll look more favourably on our cause.”

“Then let him do it without the presence of his king!” Arthur sent Merlin an apologetic smile, little more than the twitching of his lips. “I know you're right, Merlin, but I feel my time would be better spent exposing Avebury's true intentions and I can't do that from inside that chamber.” 

Once more, Arthur thumbed back at the doors behind him, which were opening as a steady trickle of councillors followed the King's example of escaping the heated arguments which were continuing unabated. The few escapees filed past their king and his advisor with appreciative smiles, bowing and hurrying on their way, though one elderly courtier did stop to speak.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” said Sir Newlyn, his wrinkled hands stroking through his grizzled beard somewhat nervously. “It was brave of you to speak up so, but then no one could ever doubt your courage. Avebury will try to take full advantage of your absence, but I do agree with you. Most of the people in that room have already made up their minds. I know I have, and your leaving gave me permission to follow. These old bones of mine don't enjoy standing about for long periods of a time.”

“I'm happy I could look after your bones, Sir Newlyn,” Arthur replied, conversationally, wondering if he should ask this old man which side of the debate he'd chosen to support, but since Newlyn had been part of Uther's court, he was probably against returning magic to the realm. But just as Arthur was about to take his leave, the noble continued.

“Like you, Sire, I'm sick of listening to Brennan Avebury. That upstart has barely spent any time in Camelot yet he thinks he can speak for all his peers. Well, let me tell you, Sire, he's much mistaken. I might be old and set in my ways, but even I can recognise when change is welcome. And there's not a person in Camelot who can doubt the devotion you have for your kingdom, nor Lord Merlin's loyalty to yourself. Clearly, you both believe in your proposal and I'm inclined to trust your judgement... and there are many nobles who share my thoughts.” Sir Newlyn bowed again. “I just thought you would like to know that, Sire.”

While one of Camelot's longest serving councillors limped away, Arthur whispered to Merlin, a glimmer of hope dawning in his eyes. “Do you think he's right, Merlin? I wish I knew.”

“Perhaps there is a way of finding out the general opinion. We could have Kay and Leon sound out the knights and the nobles, while William and Bryce could talk to the commoners. I'm pretty sure Iseldir already knows how the majority of the Druids will vote.”

“Is that fair... or legal, Merlin?” Arthur was afraid someone could overturn a favourable vote by suggesting the campaign was illegal.

“I don't see why not. We are not telling people what to vote!” Merlin said reassuringly. “From what I hear, most of the members of the council are talking about nothing else, so what's wrong with them speaking to our friends?”

“And Avebury doesn't have any scruples about telling the other lords what to vote! You're right, Merlin. You go speak to your friend Gilli. I don't think he has a franchise, but find out if he has any other ideas which can help us. Meanwhile, I'm going to talk to Mary. Ask her if she knew this man Daman. Perhaps then we can work out where Avebury's loyalties really lie. I might not have your magic, but I have a gut feeling Camelot is in danger, and while I have breath in my body, I will not see her fall again.” Arthur's eyes blazed with determination before he turned on his heel to head for his apartments. 

“Arthur, wait!” Merlin called. “Maybe I should come with you.”

“No time, Merlin. Now the ballot day has been set, we have to make sure all our supporters are with us! I'll see you back at my chambers later.”

Watching Arthur hurrying away, Merlin's eyebrows rose and a smile hovered on his lips. His friend was in for a bigger surprise than he realised. He was about to learn he had more than just Camelot to fight for, but Merlin was fairly sure the king would cope!

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bit of a filler chapter, but I hope you enjoyed the return of a character from the show. You can expect to see a little more of him in future chapters too.
> 
> Thanks for those guests who left kudos and please feel free to leave comments if you have the time and inclination. They would be much appreciated and I'd love to know what you're thinking about my story.


	24. Of Light and Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur hears some good news for a change and Merlin introduces two friends to each other who agree to help Arthur and himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to posting twice a week on Wednesdays and Sundays. I hope I haven't messed up too many readers' schedules. 
> 
> Once more I'd like to thank those guests who have left kudos. I seem to be pleasing more guests than members of this forum, but I'm glad for anyone who tells me they are enjoying this story.
> 
> Once again, I don't own Merlin or the characters, but I do enjoy borrowing them and the OC characters are my own.

Chapter Twenty Four

 

Of Light and Dark

 

Finally, Arthur found his Guinevere in their chambers deep in conversation with her new confidants. She was seated at the table with Amena and Mary close by on either side, holding hard to both their hands, while traces of tears sparkled wetly on her cheeks.

These women were supposed to help her, not make her cry!

“Guinevere,” he exclaimed, his own eyes full of concern while he crossed the floor to stand over her. “What's wrong?”

The Queen twisted in her chair, looking up at Arthur with her soft brown eyes awash. “Nothing, Arthur.” She dropped Amena's hand and took hold of her husband's, clinging nervously. “Not wrong. Truly!”

Amena pushed herself up, gesturing for The King to take her place. “Sire, Queen Guinevere has something very important to tell you, but I believe it were better said in private. Come Mary, let us leave the young people alone... and don't forget, Guinevere, we are here for you whenever you need us.” She gave The Queen's shoulder a final yet gentle squeeze.

Arthur slipped into the vacant seat, watching the two older women depart with some speed. Both had been wearing beaming smiles, so he deduced Guinevere must have taken comfort from their presence. 

Immediately the door closed, he turned back to Guinevere, still unable to rid himself of his unease. “My love, have they spoken to you of your nightmares?” 

Gwen nodded. “A little... but you and I will talk of that later. For now, I have some other news for you... something amazing.”

Arthur frowned, yet he was beginning to notice that despite her tears, Guinevere's eyes were gently glowing. She took hold of both his hands, her thumbs rubbing lightly over his palms. There was a moment of stillness as Gwen tried to compose herself.

“Arthur, I am with child,” she whispered, almost fearfully, as if saying the words aloud would wake her from a lovely dream.

Guinevere might have thought she was dreaming, but, at that moment, Arthur felt as if he had passed beyond the veil, and the time he'd spent since the battle had only been an illusion. Yet high above the tiles of the citadel the afternoon sun had triumphed over the grey-clouded sky and its life-giving rays shone through the chamber's windows, bathing the couple in its light, and warming Arthur's soul.

Guinevere was gazing at him with a tremulous smile, while her hands clung tightly to his own; her firm grip his lifeline in the maze of his emotions. He was alive, very much alive... and his wife was carrying his child, yet the unexpected revelation rendered him speechless.

“Arthur?” Guinevere asked, starting to feel anxious.

“Is it true?” Arthur finally forced the words out, resisting the urge to pinch himself. “This is real?”

“Amena and Mary are sure. I was confused.” She shook her head as she spoke. “With so many other things on my mind, I never dreamt...” Guinevere confessed apprehensively, still unable to accept the truth. “But they say all the signs are there, and now they have brought it to my mind, I think they're right.”

The pale look of shock was fading from Arthur's face to be replaced by one of awe. “A child,” he said, his eyes sliding from her face to her middle. “A baby!” A tiny smile touched his lips, then faded away. “I'd almost given up hope.” 

His hand reached out, hovering... till Gwen took hold and pressed it to her stomach. “It's hard to believe, but isn't it wonderful? We have created a life...”

At those words, his gaze snapped back up to her face. “Guinevere, we did do this between us. Merlin didn't... didn't use... you know?”

“No, no!” she quickly reassured him. “This baby must have been conceived before we learned about Merlin, and you know Merlin wouldn't do that. Not when he knows the consequences. This pregnancy is completely natural.”

At last, Arthur's worries were receding, allowing happiness to flow through his whole being. He gave a joyous laugh, pulling Gwen in for a hug, though his movements were tender. “A child,” he repeated again. “Oh, my love, my love, you have made me happier than I could ever express. In all the darkness, this is clearly the light!”

Guinevere pulled back, joining him in his mirth. “Then you are pleased?”

“Yes. Yes! How could I not be? It's the best thing that could happen to us... to Camelot. The whole kingdom will rejoice.” Arthur rose and pulled his wife into his arms, swinging her around, both of them crying and laughing through their tears... tears of celebration, tears of perfect joy. “Thank you, Guinevere,” he whispered into her dark curls.

She drew an inch or two away while staying within the circle of his arms. “You had something to do with it too!” she said smiling.

“I did!” He threw back his head and whooped with delight, but, finally, he stood Gwen back on her feet, and brought one hand up to her face to dry her eyes with his fingers. “This will be wonderful news for Camelot. An heir, at last!”

The Queen's countenance became a little doubtful. “Arthur, you do know this baby could be a daughter?”

There was another moment of silence as a starry-eyed Arthur contemplated this notion. “A baby girl? That would be amazing! A little girl who looks just like her mother, with her mother's generous heart and high courage. She would grow into a wonderful queen.”

“You wouldn't be upset if I gave birth to a girl?” Gwen said, sounding somewhat sceptical.

Arthur dropped to his knees and rested his head against Guinevere's stomach. “I will love this baby with all my heart, no matter if it is a girl or boy.”

With all her misgivings gone, she stroked her husband's blond hair. “Oh, Arthur, we are so blessed...”

Thinking that his wife had never looked more beautiful, Arthur stood again and kissed her passionately, until another thought struck his mind. “Guinevere, you are well, aren't you? Amena and Mary, they don't think we need to worry? What of your memories returning?” As he spoke, he delicately pushed Guinevere back into her chair.

Shaking her head, she calmed his fears. “I am fine. A little tired and nauseous... and I admit my memories of what I did when I was enchanted fill me with dread, but I know I was under a powerful spell.”

Arthur took Guinevere's face gently within his hands and his honest blue gaze caught her eyes. “Whatever you did, it wasn't you. Never you, my Guinevere, and you must not blame yourself.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, anxious to change the subject. Some time soon they needed to talk about that terrible time, but he didn't want to mar this special moment. “You've a baby to look after now, so you mustn't worry or tire yourself. No more rushing around visiting the cook, or George, or personally taking care of our guests.”

“But I have to, Arthur,” Gwen objected. “I am the chatelaine of Camelot. It is my duty...”

Smiling broadly, Arthur countered, “You've already done your greatest duty, Gwen. Lady Amena can take over your responsibilities for a bit. She's a very capable lady, and I'm sure Mary will enjoy pampering you while she's here.”

“I know she will. She was once like a mother to me,” Guinevere said mistily. “But how I wish my parents were here to share our happiness.”

“Well, I hope you'll pardon me, but I do not wish my father back. He might he pleased there is going to be a Pendragon heir, but he wouldn't approve of anything else. When I released his spirit, he did say I was a terrible king.”

“Then he was wrong, and when the vote is cast, you'll see yourself how much you and your decisions are valued.”

Arthur stared into his wife's dear face as a truth dawned within him. Uther had thought her worthless because she had brought no land, nor riches, nor allies to the marriage. In his father's eyes, Guinevere might not be the perfect queen, but she was perfect for him.

She had come to him with nothing but her belief and trust in him... and she was not afraid to counter him if she thought him wrong. She had always given him her strength.

He touched her face with a sense of reverence. “If I am a good king, then it is because you have made me so. Never leave me, Guinevere, for I fear I am nothing without you.”

“I don't intend to leave you, husband. You cannot get rid of me so easily.” She tangled her fingers with his, drawing his hand to her mouth to be kissed.

“Have you been to see Gaius?” Arthur asked, struck by another thought. “We must visit him, tell him our news. I want him to take care of you and the baby... and we must tell Merlin... and the knights... and then there is the council. In fact, all the kingdom.” His excitement grew apace as he thought of the rejoicing which would spread throughout the land.

“That might be so, and I've no objection to telling Gaius and Merlin, but perhaps we could say nothing to the others yet. I'd like to savour our news by ourselves for just a little time.”

“Whatever you say, Guinevere. I am yours to command!”

And for no other reason than the fact they were both completely happy, they fell into each other's arms in a state of unbridled mirth.

 

***** 

 

Close by, Merlin was introducing two of his friends to each other, hoping they would deal well together, at least enough to share a chamber. After all, it seemed there was hardly a chamber, cell, storeroom or closet which wasn't being used as a lodging for Camelot's guests.

Merlin had succeeded in extricating both Gilli and William from the great hall while the debate was still raging. Quite a number of councillors had given up on listening to Avebury and his supporters delivering lectures on the evils of sorcery, until the anti-magic lobby were practically preaching to an empty auditorium. 

Escorting his friends to his own quarters, he hoped to find out what Gilli had been doing in the intervening years, and allow the two men to get to know each other while sharing a jug of ale.

“I've been keeping on the move, Merlin. Sometimes staying in Mercia and even travelling to the Saxon shore, but coming back every now and then to discover if the future you'd prophesied for Camelot had come about.” Gilli took a swig from his beaker and wiped the foam from his lips. “I'll tell you the truth, I seriously began to doubt it would ever happen, but you proved me wrong. Congratulations on the return of magic and your new position, my friend.” The young sorcerer from long ago had matured and spoke with more confidence.

“Your felicitations might be premature, Gilli. The vote is not for another forty-eight hours. Avebury is determined the ballot will go against us.”

Gilli grinned. “I've only just arrived, but from what I've witnessed that man is digging his own grave. Even he must notice his pompous slanders are getting him nowhere.”

“Exactly! Which makes me wonder what game he's playing.” Merlin clasped his fingers and rested his chin on them. “He's an intelligent man. His actions don't make much sense.”

“You think he doesn't care whether magic is returned to Camelot?” Gilli asked, studying his boots, but in reality considering where Merlin's reasoning was going.

“I don't think he is a supporter of magic, and definitely not a supporter of mine,” Merlin explained. “ But no! Arthur and I suspect he is here for another reason and only using magic as a way to stir up trouble for The King and myself.”

“What can I do to help?” The visiting sorcerer put down his cup and sat straighter in his chair. “I don't have your powers, but I'll do whatever I can.”

“Good! I was hoping that you could help William here,” Merlin said, introducing the village headman into the conversation. “Will is lodging in the room above Avebury and he's been trying to keep an eye on him for us, but both Arthur and I would prefer it if he had some backup. Would either of you mind sharing a room and sharing the watch on Avebury?”

“It's fine by me,” William of Deira offered with a friendly grin. “I'm used to sharing a house.”

“And I have no objections. Judging by the crowds in the citadel and the town, I was fearful I'd have to share lodgings in the tavern again,” Gilli said, grimacing slightly. “Camelot is busier now than it was at the time of the tourney. I'm sure William will make a better room mate than the ones I stayed with back then. Most of them were thugs.”

“I remember it well,” Merlin said, nodding his head and smiling wryly. “Your magic saved you from suffering a good hiding then.”

“It also taught me a lesson... or should I say you taught me a lesson. It's one I've never forgotten, Merlin, even though I almost gave up on the idea of magic ever being accepted. So, what is it you want us to do? Listen in on this Lord Avebury? I could use my magic to follow him and if William is agreeable, we should be able to keep a tight watch on him.”

“I've been trying to do that already, but the man never goes anywhere without his followers, and they're very careful.” William was happy to be able to add something to the conversation. “Too careful. It's almost as if they have something to hide. I could do with another pair of eyes, and magic eyes would be best of all.”

“Good! Then it's settled.” Merlin stood and shook both their hands. “William, would you take Gilli to your room and help settle him in. I'm sorry I haven't any spare time right now to chat, but once this council is over, we'll have all the time in the world.”

“You're certain the vote will go your way, Merlin?” Gilli asked.

Merlin considered his reply for a few seconds. “I don't know the future for sure, Gilli, but I do have a feeling...” He smiled as he realised how often his feelings had been right. “So, yes! We might have a few problems to overcome, but I do think Camelot's Golden Age is finally upon us, and I'm glad you're here to share it with us. Now please excuse me. I have somewhere to be.”

The warlock's senses were tingling with a brightness which he hadn't felt since the day of Arthur and Gwen's marriage and he couldn't wait to see how his friends were taking their unexpected news.

He watched Gilli and William walk off down the corridor deep in discussion about the task they had been given. Hopefully, Gilli would be as good as his word and between them they would uncover some of Avebury's clandestine plots. Then within minutes he was strolling to the royal chambers, his worries put behind him and his heart full of happiness.

 

*****

 

Standing outside the royal chambers, Merlin listened. From within he heard quiet voices and muffled laughter and, judging it to be safe, he tapped softly on the door.

“Can I come in?” he asked as he stuck his head round the door, struck silent by the tableau before him.

On the bed sat Guinevere and Arthur, hair all messy but fully clothed and wreathed in smiles. Arthur sheltered his wife within his embrace, as he waved Merlin into the room.

“Come, Merlin. Come and hear our news.” Arthur looked in question to Gwen, who nodded smiling, giving her husband permission to leap from the bed and approach Merlin. “It wasn't Guinevere's nightmares which were the problem... well, it is that too, but we can attend to that later. It was something else which was wrong... well, it isn't wrong either. In fact, it's something right... very right.” Arthur's words tumbled over each other in excitement. “We're having a baby, Merlin! Can you believe it? Gwen is with child. It's the most awesome thing in the world.” Grinning from ear to ear, Arthur crossed to a side table where a jug of watered wine sat. “A toast!” he declared. “A toast to my wonderful wife and our child!” He handed the goblets around, making sure that Guinevere's was only half full. He wasn't sure if wine was good for pregnant women. He'd have to ask Gaius how Guinevere should be treated, but he was sure she would dislike to be cosseted. He hated it himself. Meanwhile, Merlin was talking...

“To Guinevere and the baby!” Merlin raised his goblet and drank. “And to a very happy father, of course. I cannot tell you how pleased I am for you both, though I'm surprised that Arthur finally got it right!”

“Merlin!” Gwen gasped, but her laughter filled the room.

Both men shared a look of unadulterated relief. Guinevere had something... someone else to care for now; someone of the greatest importance. Perhaps the love for her child and the fact that she had done her duty by Arthur and Camelot would ameliorate the pain she had caused. Not that either man blamed her for what she'd done, but Arthur put a lot of store in what he saw as his duty to Camelot, so it was not surprising that his wife should feel just as strongly about her own responsibilities. There could be no doubt that Guinevere was blooming. Happiness sparkled in her eyes and shone in her smile as she toasted her precious child.

Yet their light-heartedness could not dispel their problems forever and very quickly, but with some reluctance, the three returned to the business of the day.

“Did you find somewhere for your friend Gilli to stay?” Arthur asked, setting his cup down and taking his seat at the top of the table.

“I've put him in with William of Deira... which reminds me, I'll have to instruct the servants to put a truckle bed in the room. It'll be a fairly tight squeeze, but we did want to give Will some backup.”

Gwen got up from the bed and took her place at the table by Arthur's side. “Who is Gilli?”

“Of course, Guinevere. I forgot. You weren't at today's meeting. Gilli is a sorcerer friend of Merlin's, though you might remember him from Camelot's last all-comers tournament. He fought my father in the final. No one realised he had magic, but I suppose I should have done. He was a lightweight who beat some pretty skilled killers. I'm assuming he did use magic. Merlin?” Arthur twisted his head towards his warlock, his eyebrows raised in a query.

“Well, yes. But he's not a killer, Arthur, and I just had to remind him that his father was correct about not using magic for his own gain. He fought your father fairly, which was why Uther won.”

Arthur gave a bark of scornful laughter. “I can't cavil. My father didn't reach the final fairly either...”

“You let him win,” Merlin stated. “I've always thought that was one of your finer moments.”

“And now I'll never have a chance to win that tourney. I'm never going to be fit enough to enter,” Arthur said sadly, but his good mood quickly returned. Nothing could destroy his happiness today. “Still, it's only a tournament and I don't have to prove myself anymore.”

Guinevere covered Arthur's hand in condolence, as she exchanged glances with Merlin. They both knew how much it had taken Arthur, the most revered warrior in the five kingdoms, to admit to his failings and put it behind him. Perhaps Arthur would learn to cope with his disability more quickly than they thought. Most assuredly, having a child to nurture and protect would take up a great deal of his spare time.

And it was true that Arthur wasn't dwelling on his difficulties. “Are you sure William and Gilli will get along, since you have them lodging in the same room? They don't actually know each other.”

“Ah, but they have a common purpose,” Merlin answered. “When I left them they were busily plotting how they were going to keep watch on Avebury. I think we can safely say we've got Avebury under surveillance.”

“Then let's hope it does us some good.” Arthur's expression had settled into more serious lines. “Since I've given us a time limit, we have to find a way to discredit Avebury.”

“A time limit?” Though nothing could daunt Gwen's spirits today, she very much wanted to be made aware of Camelot's politics.

“Arthur set the date for the vote for the day after tomorrow,” Merlin said bluntly.

“Merlin, I know you don't approve, but I think it was the right thing to do.”

“Actually, I do approve. Not at first, I admit, but on reflection, I agree that the constant arguments are getting us nowhere. Besides, you might well have forced Avebury's hand and if he's desperate enough, he's more likely to make a mistake.”

Arthur nodded. “True! But that means we have to keep on top of the situation. That message we intercepted mentioned instructing someone to be on the move and we don't yet know who.”

“What message?” Gwen asked intently.

“Oh, I forgot. You don't know about that either. Avebury sent one of his ravens off with a message, but thanks to Merlin, it landed in Gaius' chamber. It was to a man called Daman...”

Merlin interrupted eagerly, “Confirming that he'd found allies in his stance against magic...”

“But more importantly, I believe,” Arthur said, pointing at Merlin. “It told this Daman to ready their master to march on Camelot.”

Gwen's gaze swung dizzily between her husband and her friend. “Do you know who Daman is?”

“Probably a servant of Avebury. Someone who means no good to Camelot,” Merlin said, sounding a little downhearted. 

“Guinevere,” Arthur sounded similarly subdued, though perhaps more pensive. “Mary Howden worked with your mother in Avebury's household. Do you think it's possible she might know this man?”

“It's possible.” Gwen rose quickly, heading towards the door.

Immediately Arthur caught up with her. “Where do you think you're going?”

“To ask her, of course,” she replied with great determination. “You did say we had little time, so shouldn't we go now?”

“Yes! Well, I mean, Merlin and I can go. You should rest.”

Looking somewhat fierce, Gwen set her hands on her hips. “I should rest because of the baby?”

“Exactly!” Arthur smiled benignly, happy that his wife should be so quick to understand.

“No! Not exactly, Arthur!” Moving her hands from her hips to her husband's waist, she said persuasively, “I'm having a baby, Arthur, I'm not unwell. But I promise I will take care of myself,” she added at his stubborn look.

There came a laugh from behind them. “Gwen doesn't do what she's told either!”

“True, Merlin,” Gwen said, a tiny smile dancing on her face. “That makes three of us. We make a fine team. Come on. We need to talk to Mary as soon as possible.”

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter pleased some readers. I thought it was about time that there was some happiness in Camelot. 
> 
> I'd be grateful for any comments or kudos you'd like to leave.


	25. Secret, Lies and Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little more of Avebury's history and motives are revealed in this chapter, which distresses Sir Leon.
> 
> Guinevere is also very upset, but can Arthur calm her troubled mind?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost forgot to post this chapter tonight. I've been feeling very lack lustre all day and now I've developed a headache and a very sore throat. I hope I haven't caught a summer cold, but think perhaps I have. 
> 
> I do have to thank a couple of guests for leaving kudos, but I'm missing my favourite commenter. You know who you are and I hope you're well. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that you're just too busy and haven't grown tired of this story.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Secrets, Lies and Truths

 

By the time the three friends went in search of Mary they were caught up in the general exodus from the great hall, though it had to be said that the traffic wasn't quite as disruptive as the previous days. Clearly, fewer members of the council had stayed to the bitter end.

Learning a lesson from earlier that day, Merlin searched the chambers and corridors of the citadel with his mind and wasn't surprised to find Mary Howden with Lady Amena.

“Mary is in the Walton's chambers,” he said quickly, leading the way.

Yet Guinevere hung back for a moment. “How do you know that?” she asked.

“He's using one of his wizard’s tricks,” Arthur explained shortly, taking hold of his wife's hand and drawing her along.

“You can do that, Merlin?” It was clear that Gwen was a little shocked, but also awed at her friend's powers. “And to think I believed you were like a lamb to the slaughter when you first came to Camelot. Now, look at you!”

“I wouldn't have been able to do anything like that when I arrived, and I'm not sure I like being called a wizard. I don't wear a pointy hat, and look... No wand either.”

The three kept on walking, but Arthur let out a bark of laugher. “You were wearing a robe, you had a long white beard and you carried a staff at Camlann. Believe me, Merlin, you looked very much like the wizards I was told about as a child. Gaius told me fairy tales back then too.”

“True! I went for the dramatic, but I was still incognito back then. You didn't know I had magic.”

“Does that mean we won't be seeing Dragoon the Great any time soon?” Arthur asked, looking past Gwen to Merlin. “I've grown quite fond of the old man.”

Merlin shrugged. “Who knows. Maybe I'll have to go incognito again some day. Knowing our past history, I'm sure Camelot will have some difficulties in the future.”

“I hope not,” Arthur replied, his free hand massaging his chest. “I actually think I'd enjoy an age of peace and prosperity, and we might just get it if we can win over the council and return magic to Camelot.”

“Pray you are right, Arthur,” Gwen said somewhat emotionally. “I think it would be wonderful to raise our child in a land where danger didn't lurk round every corner.”

“I wish that sense of security for all children in our realm, Guinevere, and I'll do everything in my power to bring that future into being.”

“And I'll stand with you every inch of the way, Arthur,” Merlin said solemnly and had any member of the grand council been watching, none could doubt the commitment of these young men.

Arthur smiled and gave a nod at Merlin's words, knowing that he had heard that vow many times in the past but was only now appreciating the depth of their meaning. But they had reached the temporary abode of Lord and Lady Walton and he said no more. In truth, nothing more needed to be said between himself and Merlin.

Seeing her husband and her friend sharing a private moment, Gwen rapped gently on the door and within minutes, one of the Waltons' retainers opened it and peered out. Whenever the elderly servant realised who the visitors were, he opened the door and bowing, stood aside to let them enter.

“Sire, Queen Guinevere and Lord Merlin, please come in and make yourself comfortable.” Lord Walton came forward, welcoming the group with a wave of his hand towards the chairs which had quickly been vacated. “How can we help you, Sire?”

“Actually, it's Mary we came to speak to, if she wouldn't mind answering a few questions about her time in Avebury's household,” Arthur said, striding into the room and availing himself of the offered chair. “Please, don't stand on ceremony and come and join me.” He spoke to Lord Cedric and Mary. The latter had jumped up and curtsied at Arthur's entrance.

Mary approached Arthur, encouraged by Guinevere's hand on her arm. “I'll try to answer your questions as best I can, Sire, but it was a long time ago, during the old lord's stewardship.” She settled herself in a seat, as Gwen gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze. 

“Perhaps some wine would help us all relax,” Merlin suggested, helpfully, while sitting down at Arthur's other side.

“Yes, of course. I'm forgetting my manners,” Lady Amena said. “Though the wine is watered. It suits my constitution better now I am grown old... and Cedric's too, if only he were honest enough to admit it.”

At a sign from his lady, the servant filled a cup for each, only Guinevere declined. A faint smile touched Amena's lips, yet she made no comment. This was not the time to speak of intimate concerns, though she did notice Arthur send his wife a look of concern and surmised it would not be long before a worried husband would come seeking her advice. Meanwhile, his mind was taken up with court intrigue.

Arthur took a quick drink then leaned towards Good-wife Howden. “Mary, can you remember a man called Daman? We've come across his name lately and believe he is an associate of Brennan Avebury.”

Clasping her hands in front of her, Mary let her mind drift back over the years to a time when she was a young servant in Castle Avebury. It had been a busy, happy household when she had first arrived, and she'd made friends with Gwen's mother, who'd been kind enough to instruct her in her duties. She smiled as she recalled it was Gwen's parents who'd introduced her to John, her husband, and the two families had become very close.

But there was one fly in the ointment in the castle; Brennan Avebury, the Lord's eldest son. He was an arrogant, harsh young man who treated his servants with barely concealed contempt... and not only those beneath him. He disliked his younger brother with a passion, only because his sibling had an easy way with his subordinates, while his relationship with his father was also fraught. Neither could be in each other's company for long before a fight erupted.

“Mary?” Arthur's prompt cut into her reverie. “Do you remember such a man?”

Shaking herself, Mary sat up straighter. “Sorry, Sire. I was trying to go back in time... to remember better. Yes, there was a Daman. He was the son of one of the lesser knights, and a nasty little boy he was too. Of course, he looked up to Sir Brennan; followed him everywhere like a puppy and, if there was any trouble in the household, you could be sure those two were at the bottom of it. It wouldn't surprise me if Sir Daman was still doing Lord Avebury's dirty work for him.”

“Thank you, Mary. You've confirmed our suspicions.” Arthur smiled graciously, though he looked troubled. “It still doesn't get us any closer to discovering who Avebury is working for though.”

“Sire, there was a rumour about young Brennan... I can't be sure of the truth because it was before I was in service to his family, so maybe I shouldn't say...

“Mary, anything you tell us here will be treated in utmost confidence, but if you can give us any clues at all about Avebury's leanings or motives, we will forever be in your debt,” Arthur said, his blue gaze clear and true.

“You think he is that dangerous?” Mary asked, biting her lip.

“I do indeed!” Arthur pressed his hand to his heart and not just to ease the constant ache.

Glancing at the others in the room, she saw their opinions were in accord with The King's, and when Gwen lightly squeezed her hand, she nodded. “Very well then. I came here to help and will if I can.” She took a deep breath. “Remember this is mainly hearsay... but it all began with a terrible outbreak of the sweating fever when Brennan was little more than a child and for safety, the Lord sent his heir to another kingdom which he was told was free of the sickness. From what I heard it was to the royal court of Cornwall that Brennan was fostered for a short time. No one quite knows why, but when the sickness passed and the boy was sent for, he refused to return. At first, he asked his father politely if he could extend his stay, as he and the prince had become friends. Lord Avebury could see little harm in allowing his son a slightly longer sojourn, so he agreed Brennan could stay for the summer. After three months, he sent an escort to bring his heir home... but still the boy refused. I'm not quite sure how long he was gone or how he was finally brought home, but most members of the household agreed that the boy's manners were even worse than when he'd left. I know that when I arrived at the castle some years later, the staff were usually angry at the young lord... and very often scared.”

“That's true,” Gwen agreed. “I remember my father warning me to keep out of his way.”

“To tell the truth, I think the servants were happiest when Lord Avebury let Brennan visit his royal friend, and sadly I think the family was too.” Mary was warming to her theme. “The Prince was called Mark and he was invited to Avebury once. I remember that visit and a more unpleasant individual I've yet to meet. Like two peas in a pod they were, and the mischief they got up to was cruel. It was never just teenage pranks with them. Old Lord Avebury had Prince Mark recalled to Cornwall and Brennan was livid. 

It was soon after that that his father gave him charge of one of his smaller keeps in the hope Brennan might learn a sense of responsibility, and the whole of Avebury Castle was glad to see the back of him. Though, like a bad penny, he'd turn up every so often to check on his inheritance, but as Guinevere's poor mother had died, I was too busy trying to care for Gwen and Elyan to pay much attention. Then John was called back to Longstead at the death of his father and older brother. I'll be honest, apart from the sorrow of leaving my little Gwen there, John and I were thankful to be out of that household.”

“My father worked on for a year or so before coming to be a blacksmith in Camelot, yet I was still too young to know much of what was going on. I'm afraid I'm not much help to you either, Arthur,” Gwen said, rubbing a consoling hand over her husband's shoulder.

“But you have both helped,” Arthur reassured both his wife and Mary. “I'm assuming we're talking about the period when my father made his move to take the throne of Camelot. Cedric, you were there. Didn't Prince Mark of Cornwall claim he had a right to Camelot's throne?”

“Indeed he did, Arthur,” Cedric announced, stroking his chin. “By the gods, he was prepared to make a fight for it too... but Uther's claim was the strongest by far and very few nobles backed Mark's right to the title. He was sent packing with his tail between his legs back to Cornwall before your father was crowned.”

Now it was Arthur's turn to look thoughtful. “Is it possible that King Mark has been nursing his ambition to usurp the Pendragon's throne all this time?”

“You think Mark of Cornwall is Avebury's mysterious master?” Merlin asked, following Arthur's train of thought.

“It's feasible, don't you think?” Arthur returned the question, wondering if he were clutching at straws.

“But Brennan Avebury went overseas rather than take his oath to Uther,” Cedric responded. “As far as I know, he never went to Cornwall.”

“Yet that was years ago, and we have no idea of his movements in the interim.” Arthur stood, again too agitated to sit still. “He could have been visiting Mark on and off many times over the years and we would be none the wiser.”

“Leon might know,” Merlin suggested, following Arthur's progress to the window with a troubled gaze. “You should have another talk with him.”

“True, but I don't feel comfortable putting Leon in the position of impeaching his uncle.” 

Merlin rose to join Arthur in the window embrasure. “Arthur, we're talking about the safety of your realm. If Mark of Cornwall is on his way here with an army at his back, we need to know now!”

Arthur stared down on the city he had cared for all his life. Earlier today, Guinevere, Merlin and he had talked of a lasting peace and yet they could be facing another assault within days, and neither he nor the army were in any state to repulse a concerted attack.

He straightened his spine and turned back to the others in the room. “You're right, Merlin. Now is not the time to be fastidious. Besides, if our assumptions are correct, Avebury is planning treason and I know where Leon's loyalties would lie in that case.” The King's lips narrowed and his jaw firmed as he walked back into the centre of the room. “We have to get this Grand Council done and out of the way before we have another enemy to destroy. Meanwhile, I suggest we begin making contingency preparations. Our army is weak, therefore I think it's time we called on our allies again.”

“Oh, Arthur,” Guinevere whispered, slipping her hand in his, the joy of their future parenthood paling in the face of a more immediate threat.

But Merlin grinned. “We're not totally helpless, Arthur. Our men took a mauling, but they were victorious and we have magic on our side now. We can send King Mark back to Cornwall again.”

“We only have magic if we can get the vote passed by the council. Do you think we can?” Arthur fell into the old habit of seeking Merlin's advice in moments of peril, only this time he did it in the knowledge of Merlin's powers.

“I know we can.”

A reckless grin graced Arthur's face. “Been looking in your crystal ball again, Merlin?”

The warlock's eyes sparkled in response. “Just a gut feeling.”

“Right then.” Arthur's voice was suddenly full of confidence. If their suppositions were correct, they might be forced into another battle in the near future. It wasn't what he wanted, and this time he wouldn't be on the front line, but combat was something Arthur understood. “Let's all go fight for Camelot once more.”

Guinevere felt terror seize her heart and she dragged on her husband's arm. “Arthur, you're not proposing to actually fight? You're not fit. You have to heed Merlin's warning. I can't watch you die... not now!”

“Don't worry, Guinevere. I don't plan on dying and spoiling all Merlin and Kilgarrah's efforts.” He quickly lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips. “And I have too much to live for...”

 

*****

 

The mystery surrounding Avebury's choice of destination after Uther's coronation was soon solved when Arthur and Merlin approached Sir Leon in his chambers.

“My grandfather threatened to disown him and pass the lands and title to my father if Brennan went anywhere near Cornwall,” Leon said, looking somewhat puzzled. “My father told me that much when I asked why Uncle Brennan had gone away.”

“Then you did know about the friendship between your uncle and King Mark?” Arthur asked.

“Yes, Sire.”

“Yet you never thought to tell us?” Arthur shook his head back and forth while he shrugged his shoulders in some confusion.

“As I told you before, Brennan was never much discussed in my family,” Leon explained, still baffled and a little contrite. “I'm sorry if I mistook, my lord, but I didn't place too much importance on a boyhood friendship. I was only a child myself when I heard of it.”

“If that were all it was,” Arthur conceded, “but I'm afraid it went a good deal deeper than that.”

Aware of Leon's troubled but perplexed state of mind, Merlin decided to enlighten Camelot's first knight. “Leon, we're sorry, but we suspect that your uncle might be planning to assist King Mark in a bid to take over Camelot.”

Arthur shot Merlin an angry glance. ~~You shouldn't have told him. We have no proof.~~ 

~~Leon has a right to know. Besides, you trust him, don't you?~~ Merlin replied sharply to Arthur's telepathic rebuke.

Sir Leon stood like a statue for a moment or two, his eyes blank, until they came to rest on Arthur. “But that is treason, Sire. There must be some mistake.”

“There might be room for doubt... but no.” Now that Merlin had let the cat out of the bag, Arthur chose to be candid. “Merlin and I believe that Avebury came to Camelot supposing I was dead and that the realm would be ripe for a take over. Though he had to amend his plans when I returned, and he's now trying to cause as much dissension as possible while he waits for King Mark to arrive with his army.”

Clearly Leon did not want to think badly of his close relation. “He speaks out against sorcery, Sire, which you said we all had a right to do. Surely you misjudge the matter. The Aveburys have always been loyal to the Pendragons.”

“I wish that were so... and yet, he refused to swear allegiance to my father.”

“But he did to you!” Again Leon defended Brennan.

“Which makes his actions all the more treasonable,” Merlin said quietly, seeing that Arthur was loath to hurt his first knight and friend. “We intercepted a message to your uncle's servant, Daman. He instructs this Daman to warn their master to march.”

“Daman?”

“We've been told he was a member of your grandfather's household and a particular companion of Brennan,” Arthur said with kindness, remembering how shocked and empty he had felt when he'd learned of his own uncle's betrayal.

“Yes. I recall Daman's father complaining when his wife was dying that his son was overseas serving Brennan. The poor lady kept asking to see her son.” Leon sank into the nearest chair, his shoulders drooping dejectedly, but after a moment or two, he rallied. “Sire, does this message say which master or where he is to march?”

“Unfortunately not, or we would have arrested Brennan by now. Your uncle is not so foolish to incriminate himself,” Arthur answered.

“Then it might mean anything. Perhaps they have some other destination in mind.”

“It doesn't seem likely,” Merlin interposed reasonably. “Avebury should have no other master but Arthur and can you think of any other foe he could be suggesting they assault?”

For some seconds, Leon racked his brain. “They could be coming to support Camelot against the Saxons!”

“Leon, I sent out a general alert to my liege-men and my allies asking for support before Camlann,” Arthur said. “Queen Annis sent a troop of cavalry, as did Rodor. Yet your uncle, who is sworn to my service and whose lands lie closer, came too late to the battle. Do you not think that strange?”

“Yes, Sire... but there could be a plausible explanation,” Leon suggested hopefully. “They might have run into some kind of trouble on the way here. Have you asked him?”

“No! And I don't intend to,” Arthur reiterated forcefully. “We cannot afford to alert him to our suspicions. So say nothing of this conversation, Leon.” Suddenly Arthur relented and placed his hand on Leon's shoulder. “I'm sorry, but why did Brennan send a secret message and who is his master if not me? You have to admit that his actions are dubious.”

Leon raised his desperate gaze to his king. “But treachery, my lord. I cannot countenance such a thing.”

“It's a hard thing to accept. No one knows that better than I, and you must not think I hold you responsible in any way.” Arthur gave his friend's shoulder a final squeeze then stepped back. “We are not to blame for the actions of our relatives.”

At last aware of the fact that he was sitting while his sovereign stood, Leon quickly rose. “Thank you, Sire.” He dropped to his knees. “You know you have my complete loyalty. What can I do to help?”

“Rise, Sir Leon. There's no need for you to kneel to me... I never doubted you, and as for your help, I believe Merlin here has got your uncle covered,” he added with a grin. “He's set William and Gilli to watch him. Until we find proof of Brennan's perfidy, we can do nothing.”

“And alerting him to our misgivings would be disastrous for now,” Merlin said. “We know you would like to challenge him, Leon, but can you stay your hand for the present? At least until we discover the true identity of his mentor and if there is an enemy threatening Camelot as we speak.”

The tall knight drew himself erect and swallowed hard. “It will be hard. I can do as you say, but I ask a boon, Sire.”

Arthur nodded.

“When the time is right, might I be the one to challenge Avebury?”

A rueful smile twisted Arthur's lips. “I think you'll find you might often be asked to stand as my champion from now onwards. It seems unlikely that I'll ever recover enough strength to fight for myself.”

 

“In that case, it will be an honour for me to be your champion.” Leon made his pledge without a second thought.

“In the meantime, Leon, there is something you can do.” Arthur easily slipped into his role of commander. “On the pretext there have been reports of bands of marauding Saxons, double the patrols to all Albion's borders and beyond. Have them search for scouts of an opposing army. In all likelihood, King Mark will be marching from the south west, yet who knows, he could be trying a feint from a different direction. I want his host found, but without giving away our own position. Use Percival and Kay as your lieutenants. I want this kept between our close circle of friends.”

Leon came to attention. “As you command, Sire.”

Once outside the door, Arthur turned to Merlin. “I have a thought, Merlin...”

“You want me to scry for Cornwall's army?”

“Can you do it?”

“I have no idea. I don't know this King, so perhaps finding him could be difficult. I need a crystal from the Crystal Cave.”

“Don't we have one of those in the vaults?” Arthur asked with a lift of his eyebrows. “I have no idea which artefacts are still here or have been stolen along the way.”

“The Crystal of Neahtid?” At Arthur's nod, Merlin continued. “I'm not sure that will do the job. I only got jumbled flashes of the future when I looked into it, which was the same as happened in The Crystal Cave. Mind you, perhaps that was because I didn't know how to channel the images properly. I can give it a try toni...” A yawn interrupted Merlin's words. “Tonight.”

Arthur studied Merlin sympathetically. “Do you feel as tired as I? I tell you, Merlin, we're dining in private this evening, and having an early night.”

 

*****

 

As darkness settled over Camelot, the royal couple said goodnight to their intimate group of diners, who seemed to share The King's weariness. It had been a very long day, full of many disturbing revelations and one wonderful one which, in Arthur's opinion, over-set the rest. Yet, at Gwen's insistence, that discovery would be kept quiet by the few people who were already aware of her condition.

Arthur felt the realm would benefit from hearing some good news, but for his wife's sake was willing to stay silent for the present. Besides, while Camelot's throne was under threat of being usurped, the information that there was an heir coming could put Guinevere's life in danger.

He'd also persuaded Merlin that going in search of the Crystal of Neahtid could be put off till tomorrow, as Merlin had been dragged from his bed almost at dawn by Arthur's self-pitying actions.

The city and the army had been put on alert, and since Avebury's message instructed Daman to prepare to march, a possible surprise attack was most likely not imminent.

Arthur crawled into bed beside his wife, snuggling close to her warm body, ready and entirely happy to drift off into a deep sleep when, suddenly, Gwen spoke into the darkness, her voice disconsolate.

“How can you trust me, Arthur? I tried to kill you.”

So, the time had come and Arthur was wise enough not to postpone this conversation again.

“No! Not you. It was never you!” Pushing up on one elbow, Arthur leaned over his wife. In a faint shaft of moonlight he saw her beloved face awash with silent tears. “The treachery was all Morgana's. When Merlin told me...”

“Merlin knew?”  
“Almost from the beginning.” He wiped her tears with the ball of his thumb.

“But how?” Gwen asked, fear spreading through her soul like a dank fog, but needing to know the truth. She could no longer hide behind the excuse of lost memory.

A tiny smile hovered fleetingly on Arthur's mouth. “You accused him of trying to poison me. He knew he was innocent, but more than that, he knew the real you would never have placed the blame on her closest friend. I'm surprised the knights didn't think of that either. In fact, I should have realised that too. My only excuse is that having been so close to death, I wasn't thinking properly... Then Morgana must have warned you to be more circumspect and you started acting more like you... the real you... if you know what I mean?”

“Only I wasn't me. Arthur, I killed Tyr!”

“Yes... but like you said, it wasn't you. Morgana used you like a weapon to assassinate me... and anyone else who got in her way.”

“And you can forgive me for that?” Gwen asked, sounding dubious.

“Yes! Because the cruelty wasn't yours. Somewhere deep inside your heart was a place that was never blighted by Morgana's hate.” Arthur pulled a resisting Guinevere into his arms, stroking her hair and back as her tears changed to violent, heart-breaking sobs.

“How can you be so sure? I tried again...” she gulped through her cries. “With that terrible man... the Surram of Amata.”

“Well that was as much my mistake for believing someone like him could be an ally to Camelot. I have no idea what I was thinking of...”

“You were thinking what was best for your people. I just thought he would be the perfect assassin to be rid of you.”

Arthur gently pulled Guinevere up till she was resting on her pillows, before taking her face, just as tenderly, between his hands.

“I want you to listen to me, Guine...vere,” he said, drawing her name out lovingly in the way he did. “And I want you to believe me.” Arthur smoothed a tendril of hair which had drifted across Gwen's cheek. “When Merlin finally found a way to rid you of Morgana's influence, he was told that you had to walk willingly into the Cauldron of Arianrhod: that we had to reach the one part of your heart which remained true. Guinevere, you did. You walked into the water of your own accord because...”

“With all my heart. You reminded me how I'd answered when you asked me to marry you... With all my heart,” Gwen said, very low... wonderingly.

“Yes, my love. With all my heart.” Leaning down, he pressed his lips, warm, yet for the moment, passionless against her mouth. “You see, no matter how much Morgana had captured your mind and body, your heart remained true...”

“To you,” she whispered. “Always and completely to you.”

Gwen was up off her pillows then, throwing herself into Arthur's willing embrace, kissing his lips, his cheeks, his eyes, assuring herself she had never succeeding in hurting him. “Morgana never had my heart, Arthur.”

“I know. I know,” he repeated, calming her, soothing her. “I never had to forgive you... because it was Morgana's evil, not yours and you must accept that. You must learn to forgive yourself.”

Guinevere stilled in his arms, and after a second or two, she shook her head. “I'm not sure I can. Excuse myself... perhaps in time, but there is a part of me which will never forget, never forgive my betrayal... betrayals,” she added, sorrowfully. “I have betrayed you twice, Arthur. Though my heart never did, my will was bent by Morgana's power. First with Lancelot and later when I tried to kill you.”

“Guinevere, stop. Those things are in the past. We cannot change them, but they must be left behind. The gods know, I too have done terrible things which I've had to learn to live with,” Arthur said, biting his lips. “But bemoaning the past will never mend the future. For some reason of which I'm not entirely sure - though a lot of it has to do with Merlin - I have been given a second chance.” Arthur stared resolutely into her eyes. “I need you now, Gwen. I need your strength and your honesty. I'm sorry, my queen, but I must beg you to find the power to forgive yourself. If not for you... for me and for Camelot. For the sake of our child, Guinevere.” He held his breath, praying he'd not asked for too much.

Yet Arthur knew his Guinevere well; her wisdom, her steadfastness and her high courage. For herself, she would seek nothing, but for the people she loved, she would walk through the gates of hell, surmount every obstacle. Guinevere did not know how to fail others.

A sense of begrudging resignation glinted like steel in The Queen's eyes, and Arthur swallowed bitter tears at the sight. He would give everything to return Guinevere's innocence to her, but life wasn't always fair; they had to learn to live with the way the dice had rolled. Besides, they were alive, they had each other and the closest of friends, and soon they would be blessed with a baby.

“We have come through so many trials, my Guinevere. Against all the odds, Camelot is safe and most of our friends are well and happy. We're still here, still together and we are going to have a baby.” One of his rare, beautiful smiles lit up his face. “I can't ask for any more in my life. Can you, Guinevere?”

She loved him with all her heart. How could she refuse him? “You're right, Arthur. It is ungrateful to dwell on what can't be changed... but if we forget those we've hurt and don't try to make amends, then we're not worthy of a better life.”

Arthur's hand traced the contours of her face almost with reverence. “My wonderful, sensible wife. I would be nothing without you.”

“Or Merlin,” Gwen gave a little smile.

“Very true,” Arthur said with a chuckle. “I owe everything to Merlin, but I'm very happy he's not here. I think he might be a little in the way for what I have in mind.”

“And what would...”

Guinevere's question was stopped by Arthur's kiss and in the darkened room a sweet, dreamlike quiet descended over the curtained bed.

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That is this Sunday's offering. I'd be grateful to hear your thoughts on how you think my story is going.
> 
> I'm now off to take some meds and go to bed.


	26. The Tryst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avebury reveals his secrets, little knowing he's got an audience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost missed posting tonight as my real life got a little difficult this week. However, it is still Wednesday.
> 
> Again I have to thank Annie for her comments and also for a couple of guests who left kudos. You are really keeping me posting this story here and I'm very grateful for your support.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The Tryst

Not everyone in Camelot's citadel was asleep. Brennan Avebury was on a prearranged mission. For a big man, he could move quietly and, like a wraith, he made his way through the dimly lit corridors and down twisting staircases. The castle was strange to him, but he'd bribed one of Camelot's servants well for information on how to navigate his way outside without coming across too many guards. He'd also had to pay a good deal extra for the man's silence.

Most of the staff was loyal to Arthur, but he'd watched them closely over the last few days and had chosen his man well. A servant who was particularly vociferous about the return of sorcery to Camelot, and one who was unlikely to turn down the opportunity to earn a few extra coins, since it seemed he spent a lot of his free time in the tavern, drinking and gambling with all comers.

Avebury's careful planning had paid off and he was soon heading, unnoticed, for the southern gate, through the lower town and out towards the woods and the ruined temple of the Old Religion. He just hoped Daman would be on time. The guards changed two hours after midnight and he wanted to be back before fresh sentries took up their duties. Of course, he could have sent a raven, but his instructions were somewhat complicated for a simple message.

Stealthily, he crept under the ivy-covered arches into the body of the decaying stonework. “Daman?” he whispered anxiously, but with an edge of anger. “Dammit, man! Are you here?”

From out of the shadows a stalky, hooded figure solidified. “Here, my lord.”

“Then come quickly.” Avebury beckoned the man over. “I don't have much time and there is much to arrange. I don't want to be shouting the length of this damned place.”

The stranger bobbed his head subserviently, creeping forward. “Yes, my lord.”

“Did you forward my message?”

“I did. I handed it over to a messenger this very afternoon. King M...”

“Shut up!” Avebury hissed, grabbing Daman's arm. “No names. We're still within Camelot's boundaries and who knows who might be lurking nearby. Were you spotted?”

“No, sir,” Daman answered with some exasperation. His lord was not a patient man. “Were you followed?” he added daringly, earning himself a frown from Avebury. 

“Of course not, Daman! Do you think I don't know how to negotiate my way around in a hostile environment? Besides, the fools in Camelot think I'm only here for the Grand Council. They've no idea of my true purpose,” Avebury gloated, his chest seeming to swell with self-satisfaction. “We shall return the throne to its true sovereign and I shall take my place at his right hand.” 

“At last you will get the recognition you deserve,” said the plump man with a sycophantic smile.

“Perhaps. But we've not succeeded yet.” At last, a chink of doubt coloured Avebury's voice. “We believed that our liege would be taking up an empty crown, but Arthur is alive and well... and he has just achieved a major victory in battle. His people think very highly of him. He could prove difficult to dislodge.”

“Haven't you managed to undermine him? You said it would be easy to use his misguided championing of sorcery against him.”

“That's not proving as simple as I supposed.” Avebury crossed to a broken column and sat down, rubbing his thigh where an old battle wound throbbed. “I'm getting too old for this clandestine business. The sooner we take possession of Camelot the better... yet, it seems Arthur has judged his subjects well. His crazy proposal on legalising magic is growing more popular than I'd thought possible.”

“But what of Uther's supporters? Surely they must be horrified at Arthur's ideas.”

“I'm beginning to think that many of the nobles backed Uther's ideas out of fear rather than conviction. Arthur has given them the chance to judge for themselves and they honour him for it,” Lord Avebury sneered. “He has sparked these ideas of equality and fraternity...”

“King M...” Daman bowed quickly, correcting himself. “Our master would not like that.”

“Indeed not! Such licence cannot be allowed to prevail... which is why we should rid ourselves of the perpetrator of these idealistic notions as soon as possible.”

The servile man rubbed his hands together, asking with some amazement, “You would challenge Arthur?”

“Don't be a fool!” Avebury growled, standing and walking to an empty window. His narrowed eyes stared out at the silhouette of Camelot's citadel, sitting proud on its hill in the near distance. “I've no intention of fighting Arthur physically, though if there were ever an opportunity to win against him now would be the time. He is still recovering from an injury, which would most likely mean I would have to duel his champion... and I'm not certain I could beat one of his precious knights. Once perhaps, but they are all much younger than I... and I too suffer from a battle wound.” He turned back to face Daman. “No, I have a different plan.”

Amongst the trees, a shadowy figure had moved back when Avebury showed himself in the gaping hole. There was a sharp crack as the listener's foot trod on a broken branch.

Avebury swung round again. “What was that?”

Daman came to his side. “What?”

“I heard a noise!” Avebury scanned the dark woodland. “You must have been followed!”

“Not I, Sire. I swear.” Daman too leaned on the ruined windowsill, searching the trees.

William stood frozen to the spot, held in place with one foot raised by his companion's magic. Gilli raised a finger to his lips, giving his fellow conspirator an apologetic smile for casting a spell, though Will completely understood. He shrugged back his own apology for alerting the enemy and was perfectly agreeable to wait until Gilli chose to release him. They both turned to the chapel and were horrified to see their quarries drawing their swords.

“Someone is out there!” Avebury announced, threading his way through an opening and approaching Will and Gilli's hiding place.

But Gilli acted quickly, fingering his ring while his eyes flashed golden towards a spot some distance to their right. From out of the forest a doe stepped lightly through the bracken. Its head raised, sniffing the air, spotting the men with swords. For a brief moment, animal and human regarded each other, before the deer leapt off, springing away into the night and safety.

“See! It was just a deer. No one followed me,” Daman said, placating his lord.

Continuing to survey the area, Avebury replied. “Perhaps, but it's dangerous for us to meet this close to Camelot. We must finish our talk quickly, so listen carefully. I have a plan to be rid of Arthur, but it must be done so no suspicion falls on me or anyone associated with me.” He took Daman's arm and led him back to the temple, saying quietly, “I know you're a proficient spy. Use your skills to hire an assassin. Camelot is overcrowded right now, so it should be a simple task for a stranger to infiltrate the castle, but I want you to ensure that this assassin is linked to the Old Religion. That way we kill two birds with one stone. We put an end to Arthur and his ideas to reinstate magic. Now go... and Daman, I'm relying on you, so do not fail me.”

“When have I ever, my lord?” Daman said, grinning sleazily. “But it might be expensive...”

“Never mind the expense. I want the most competent killer you can find,” Avebury stated, untying a leather bag from his belt and weighing it in his hand before he passed it over reluctantly. “Here is more gold. Added to what you already have you should have enough to pay for a score of brigands. We shouldn't meet again until after the deed is done, and remember, speed is of the essence.”

Avebury and Daman passed out of their watchers' view and after a few moments, the sound of a single horse's hooves could be heard trotting on the track which led away from Camelot. Minutes later, Avebury passed them, heading back to the citadel.

The two heaved a sigh of relief as Gilli freed Will from his spell. “I'm sorry, Will. I didn't mean to enchant you so soon after getting to know you.”

“No! I'm glad you did... and that thing with the deer. That was good!” Will nodded, beaming his approval. “They would have found us for sure if you hadn't been able to fool them. Just as well you have magic. I'm maybe not so good at this spying job.”

“You did well,” Gilli assured his new friend. “And now you're going to have to go back and tell Merlin and Arthur what we've just heard.”

“They're plotting to kill The King.” Will sounded more than a little shocked. “We have to let them know.”

“Yes, William. But you're going to have to do that yourself.”

“Why me? They might not believe just me. Informing on a lord like that.” Clearly, assassinating a king was out of William's comfort zone and panic started to invade his voice.

Gilli reached up and put an arm round the tall commoner's shoulder, pressing his ring against Will's arm while whispering a soothing spell beneath his breath. “William, you'll be fine. Arthur and Merlin know Avebury is a bad man, even if he is a lord. They'll believe you. They like you.”

A little grin lightened William's face. “They do, don't they? I never thought I'd be friends with The King, never mind be helping him...”

“Not just helping him. You'll be saving his life. Now go quickly, William, and ask the guard to take you to Merlin and The King. They'll be expecting you, I'm sure.”

William took a few steps away, before turning round. “But where are you going?”

“I'm going to track down Avebury's accomplice. Tell Arthur and Merlin that too. Tell them I'll stop this assassin, if I can.”

“But isn't that dangerous?” Will asked, aghast.

“Yes, but not as dangerous as allowing Arthur to be killed. Now hurry, Will, and don't let anyone stop you from warning The King. His safety depends on us.”

Very quickly Gilli merged into the shadows and William started on his way back to Camelot to carry out his task. There was a moment when he doubted his ability, but he straightened his back as he marched quickly back to the main gates. The King was his friend and he wasn't about to let him be killed by Avebury's paid assassin.

 

*****

 

William of Deira passed without incident into the citadel's quadrangle but, when he entered the castle by the main door and asked to speak to The King, he was met with incredulity by the guards.

“No, please. King Arthur knows me. I'm here to vote in the Grand Council,” he explained with some pride. “I've something very important to tell him. He will want to see me.”

The soldiers continued to stare at him blankly, though one definitely smirked. “I doubt The King knows every member of the council, especially the commoners... and a country bumpkin one at that.”

“But it's true. He gave me lodgings in the castle. Lord Merlin saw to it.”

“Ah, well that accounts for it,” said the older guard sagely. “Nothing against Merlin. He's a good lad, but he does have a lot of strange friends. Now if you do have lodgings here, I'd suggest you go in by one of the side doors.”

“You don't understand. The King's safety is at risk and I've got to tell him what I saw.” William tried to walk inside, but the guards snapped their spears across his front, forcing him backwards.

“I think it's you who doesn't understand... and threatening The King is treason. You'll be finding yourself in a cell soon enough,” the second guard warned.

“It's not me who's going to hurt The King. It's that Lord A...” But William quickly realised it would be foolish to accuse a nobleman of treason. He was a commoner and he didn't think Camelot had changed that much. He drew a deep breath and went on more reasonably. “Look, if you won't let me go to The King, then would you send for Sir Percival? Will you tell him that William of Deira would like to have some words with him... please?”

The first soldier stopped grinning. He was remembering an instruction which had come down the chain of command. “Hey, Dan. Didn't we get told that if some peasant called William asked to speak to Sir Percy, we was to let him?”

The two guards stood back to confer with one another in private before the younger hurried up the stair to call a messenger. There was a long, awkward wait for William as the remaining guard still stared at him suspiciously, keeping him outside the palace doors.

Finally, Sir Percival came striding down the stairs, seeming a little flustered. He looked over the sentry's shoulder to see the tall village elder, whom Arthur and Merlin had befriended, standing awkwardly outside.

“William of Deira, come inside,” Percival said beckoning, while sending his men a somewhat disapproving stare. “Weren't you told this man has instant access to the palace and to myself?”

“He didn't ask for you at first. He was saying he wanted to speak to The King.” The older guard defended himself and his mate.

“And so he shall. Come, William. I suppose you have some information for us?”

“I do, sir... and it's urgent. I need to tell King Arthur.” He lowered his voice, not wishing to be overheard by the unhelpful sentries. “It's about a certain Lord I've been asked to keep an eye on.”

“Good. This way then.” Percival pointed to the stairway, but before he led William away he turned to the two sentries. “Back on duty... and don't be so ready to judge people on their status from now on. The King and Queen and Merlin don't and neither should you!”

At the top of the staircase, Percival halted, putting a hand on his charge's shoulder. “I'm not saying you can't see The King, but are you sure your information won't keep till morning?” he asked, stifling a yawn. He didn't mind being wakened in the middle of the night; being a knight, he was used to odd hours and alarms. However, disturbing Arthur from his sleep was not something he did lightly.

William nodded his head in a tiny bow. “It's big. King Arthur told me to watch Lord Avebury and me and Gilli did,” he lowered his voice confidentially. “We followed him out to an old ruined temple and he met another man.” William stopped and looked about them, before leaning closer. He said, almost mouthing the words, “They're planning on killing King Arthur.”

Percival's eyes opened in shock. “Say no more.” He also checked over his shoulder. “Keep silent till we get to The King.”

 

*****

Arthur lay on his pillows, listening to the sweet sound of his wife breathing softly beside him and reflecting on how strange this day had been. He'd begun the morning angry and sad and taking his frustrations out on a wooden training dummy, which hadn't been at all clever given his situation. He was lucky he hadn't killed himself. Yet here he was in the dark of the night, happy and content, wondering how a day which had started off so badly could end so wonderfully.

Guinevere groaned, and he was immediately alert, but clearly she wasn't having another nightmare because she turned and nestled into his shoulder. In the fading light of a candle, he could just see a hint of a smile lingering on her lovely mouth.

He too smiled, pulling her closer, composing himself for sleep. There were many problems still to be tackled regarding Camelot, but for now he would let them all go and enjoy this moment.

However, this moment was rudely interrupted by a knock on his door. He raised his head, wondering if he had misheard, but the rap was repeated. Whoever was calling him at this hour of the night better have a good excuse. Yet, no one would disturb him at this time if it wasn't urgent. His ingrained sense of duty won out and he gently disentangled himself from Guinevere, praying he wouldn't wake her, but Gwen appeared lost in her happy dreams. 

Within moments he threw a cloak around his bare chested torso and opened the door slowly to find Percival and William waiting in the corridor. Immediately, Arthur was alert.

“Sire, I'm sorry to wake you,” Percival said. “But I believe William has news of great importance to tell you.”

Instead of inviting the two men inside, Arthur checked that Guinevere was still asleep, before joining them in the corridor. “I don't want to wake The Queen, so we'll talk in Merlin's room,” he said, leading them down the passageway to the next set of rooms. “Besides, if I have to be wakened in the midnight hours, then my personal advisor should be too.” He gave a laugh, realising he was slipping back into his old ways with Merlin, and though the normality of it was comforting, Merlin was no longer a servant. Yet, for all that, Merlin would want to share in this conversation.

He struck the door and walked into his advisor's room, calling out in a friendly manner, “Merlin, my friend, it's time to wake up. Come on, lazybones. Hurry up or I'll be dragging you onto the floor as you used to do to me.” Arthur perched himself on the bottom of Merlin's bed and waited for him to open his eyes, which he had to admit was a whole lot faster than he used to answer Merlin's call.

“What are you doing here?” Merlin asked, rubbing his eyes and sounding a bit annoyed. “Haven't I been running around after you all day already?”

“Probably, but I'm not alone, Merlin.” Arthur had the grace to look a little sheepish. “I'm sorry, but Percival has brought William of Deira to visit and, as this isn't exactly the time for a social call, I'm assuming he has something to tell us.”

That information brought Merlin to his senses. He scrambled out of bed, joining Arthur to sit at the bed's foot while trying without much success to flatten his bed-messed hair. “William, you're up very late,” he suggested, stifling yet another yawn. 

“Yes, lord. Me and Gilli was carrying out your orders, following that Avebury character and he doesn't keep normal hours.”

At the mention of the sorcerer, Merlin cocked his head like a sparrow and glanced round the room. “Where is Gilli?”

“He's gone off, sir.” William didn't look at all comfortable, prompting Arthur to ask Percival to bring them some wine from the side table. 

Once that was done, however, Arthur took up the questioning. “Do you know where Gilli has gone?”

William held onto his plain goblet as if it were a comforter. “He says he's going to track that man Daman... find out what he's up to.”

Halting in the act of drinking, Arthur demanded, “You've seen this Daman.”

“Yes, Sire. Tonight in the temple behind...” But here William's nerves got the better of him and he started coughing.

Arthur rose and crossed to the village elder, placing a hand on his back and leading him to a seat by the table, which he pressed him into. “William, you've nothing to be anxious about. We asked you to keep an eye on Avebury and it seems you and Gilli succeeded. Now take a sip of your drink, compose yourself and tell us what you know,” Arthur cajoled, his kindly smile reaching his eyes.

In the background, Merlin mused how much Arthur had changed from his very early days in Camelot. He had been an arrogant braggart then, yet in these intervening years he'd learned the common touch, and though he might still find it difficult to express his deepest feelings, he understood the minds and hearts of his people. It was his greatest asset.

“Gilli and I followed Avebury out the southern gate to an old chapel. You must know where it is.”

“I do.”

“He had a meeting with another man. One of his supporters I think, but not one who is visiting Camelot.”

“Did you hear this man's name?” Arthur asked, sitting next to Will.

“It was that there Daman, Sire.” Will replied, nodding his head and becoming more outgoing under Arthur's encouragement. “They talked for a bit... but the long and short of it is, that... I'm sorry, Sire, I'm only repeating what I heard...”

“We understand, Will,” Arthur said, stifling his growing sense of vexation.

“Lord Avebury ordered his man to hire an assassin to kill you, Sire.” William looked at the others in the room, clearly feeling very unsure of how his news would be received. “I know I'm only a commoner and he's a noble, but I swear to you it's true.”

Arthur's mouth took on a mulish look and his eyes looked grim. “I don't doubt you, Will.”

The village elder grinned, reminding Arthur of the younger, more callow man he had met so long ago. Behind them, Merlin smiled as he came to stand closer to the pair.

“Then you think we have enough to charge, Avebury?” Merlin asked eagerly.

“No. Not really,” Arthur sighed. “Old habits die hard, Merlin, and we're already asking for a huge change to Camelot's laws. A commoner may still not accuse a lord. That's one rule the nobles will be very loath to surrender, mainly because of their own self interest, but I cannot in all conscience tackle both laws at once.”

Merlin slipped into a chair, echoing Arthur's sigh. “I suppose that would be one step too far for the moment.” 

“Indeed. I'm not saying we can't deal with it later, but for now it is out of the question,” Arthur said, shaking his head. “It might have helped if Gilli were here to corroborate Will's story.”

“But he's a known sorcerer, and Avebury would just imply they were trying to smear his good name,” Merlin agreed, looking as dejected as Arthur felt.

Gazing from one man to the other, Will burst out angrily. “Then we did no good?”

“Not so, Will! Believe me, I am thankful for the warning. Forewarned is forearmed.” Arthur rose and once more placed his hand on William's shoulder. “I'm very grateful for your work. Now, think on. Is there more you have to tell us?”

“Only that this Avebury ordered his man to find an assassin that was linked to sorcery. He seemed to think that was very important.”

An ironic bark of laughter forced its way passed Arthur's lips. “I'll give Avebury one thing. He's a clever villain. If a known sorcerer managed to kill me, then it would wipe out all we are trying to do with the Grand Council.”

Percival at last spoke up. “Don't worry, Sire. The knights of Camelot are not about to let that happen.”

“Neither am I,” Merlin repeated.

And William, not to be outdone, bowed. “That makes three of us, Sire.”

Arthur's eyes roamed over his friends and guardians. “You know, William, I might have to make a proper knight of you by the time all this is over,” he said, grinning, and making Will's eyes boggle. “Now get back to bed and try to sleep. You've served your king well this night.”

Arthur then turned to Percival. “Needless to say, we keep this between ourselves for now, and definitely don't speak of it to Leon. He's already having to deal with the fact that his uncle is a traitor. I won't burden him further with the knowledge of this murder plot. Not yet.”

“But, Arthur,” Percival objected. “The knights and soldiers have to be alerted... put on their guard so we can protect you.”

“Thank you for that thought, but I don't want Avebury realising we're on to him. We've already increased the border patrols to try to intercept Cornwall's army.” Arthur thought for a moment, before adding. “If it makes you feel better, choose a few of our most trusted knights and let them know you want security tightened within the city... but discreetly. Say that with the vote so near at hand you're afraid of bullying tactics. But that is all, Percival. Sometimes to flush out big game you have to set out bait.”

“Yes, but we'd all be happier if that bait weren't yourself, Arthur,” Merlin said as Percival and William nodded in agreement.

The knight and commoner left soon after, Percival agreeing to escort William to his room, and also promising, with less enthusiasm, to say nothing to Leon about Avebury's assassination plan. Obviously he wasn't comfortable hiding such important information from his friend.

As Merlin closed the door behind his visitors, he made it apparent he wasn't happy with Arthur's choice either. “Do you think it's wise keeping Leon in the dark? He is your first knight and, by rights, he should be the one organising the guards.”

“I don't think it's fair to trouble Leon when we don't have any proof,” Arthur finished on a yawn, wanting to get back to bed before Guinevere woke and realised he was missing. “He's already had to face the fact that his uncle might be conspiring with Mark of Cornwall to attack Camelot.”

Merlin shook his head with annoyance. “But we have proof! You said you believed Will and it was just your nobles who would have difficulty accepting his word, or was that only for William's benefit.”

Arthur looked shocked at Merlin's suggestion. “Of course, I believe Will. Merlin, you've known for a long time how little store I place on the unfair and outdated knight's code. Believe me, that's something else I intend to change around here as soon as possible. But, if it comes down to William's word against Avebury, I swear Sir William of Deira will become a reality in the very near future, then he can accuse Avebury with impunity,” Arthur said somewhat stormily, stretching the muscles in his shoulder and back. He couldn't stifle a groan.

“Are you in pain?” Merlin asked, his irritation disappearing immediately as his eyes glowed gold and a soothing warmth enveloped Arthur's torso.

“Thanks, Merlin,” Arthur smiled gratefully. “It's a pity you can't bottle that. It helps a whole lot... and it doesn't taste bad.”

“Don't mention it. I am your physician. And I shouldn't have doubted you, yet I still think you're wrong to keep Leon in the dark. He's your friend and he deserves your honesty.” Merlin came to stand by Arthur. “Think how shocked you were when you uncovered Agravaine's deception. Wouldn't you have wanted me to warn you sooner?”

“True, Merlin, though I probably wouldn't have believed you...” Arthur searched his friend's eyes. “But had you planted a seed of doubt, at least, it wouldn't have come as such a shock.”

“If you tell Leon, he's not about to disbelieve you,” Merlin said, placing a hand on Arthur's arm. “It's your choice, but this has been a very long day and I'm off to bed. I suggest you do the same.”

“You're right, as usual, on both counts, my friend.” Arthur turned and started for the door. “I'll talk to Leon tomorrow. Goodnight and sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Arthur.”

There might be troubles looming before them but neither man had difficulty sleeping that night.

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you didn't mind that quite a lot of this chapter focused on the villains and William and Gilli. I needed to write this chapter to forward the plot. However, I did include a scene with Arthur and Merlin.
> 
> I'd love to hear what you think of my story, so please don't be shy.


	27. A Tale of Two Taverns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilli turns into a spy and Arthur decides to have a long chat with Merlin. And we finally learn more of Avebury's plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, I have Annie to thank for leaving comments and also the guests who left kudos. If it weren't for you, I'd probably give up posting here, but then I started, so I will finish.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

A Tale of Two Taverns

While Camelot was sleeping, Gilli hurried through the night, his way lit by a wayward moon. The rain from earlier in the day made his job easier, as the muddy track clearly showed the marks of a horse's hooves... and when a stony patch of ground masked the traces, he used his magic to find the way forward. Yet his quarry was on horseback while he was on foot and he was very aware of the urgency of his task.

Fortunately, the stranger called Daman stopped and made camp a few hours before dawn, allowing Gilli to catch up, but it was a tired tracker who rolled himself in his cloak and lay down, hidden behind a tree, his objective asleep a hundred yards or so distant.

With a flaring of gold in his ring and eyes, he set his senses on alarm to any movement from the one-man camp ahead, before he too settled to sleep.

By noon the next day, Gilli found himself near Ashwick, on the borders of Camelot heading for Helva. It was a good choice of destination, for if Gilli wanted to hire someone with magic, Helva was the place he would have chosen. The city was in Odin's land and it was renowned for being a haven for sorcerers... a place where magic was tolerated. He'd sought refuge there a couple of times himself. 

The only problem was that not all sorcerers residing in the city were benign. There were many there who looked only for peace, but there were also a great number who would welcome the opportunity to attack Camelot or its king, particularly if they had not heard of Arthur's intentions to legalise magic. Some would not care even for that. They only sought revenge.

The man was travelling quickly and Gilli wished he was not on foot, but there was little he could do but follow. Hopefully it would take some time for this Daman to find a person who would carry out his orders, while he knew Helva well, and knew just where to look for unscrupulous magic users.

But one thing he had decided, he would buy a horse when he reached Ashwick, if there was one to be had. Once he had discovered the identity of the hired assassin, he had to return to Camelot to warn Merlin and Arthur in time.

 

*****

Back in Camelot, Lord Cedric and a few of his friends were trying to discover the mood of the lords regarding the vote on magic, while Will, Mary and Bryce were seeking to do the same amongst the franchised commoners.

The old sergeant Walter had garnered his courage and talked to Geoffrey of Monmouth, knowing he would be just the man who could inform him of the rights of the guilds to vote. Fortunately, Geoffrey had recognised the soldier as a long serving member of first Uther's, then Arthur's home guard, and being a firm supporter of Arthur and Merlin's ideas, decided to look into the archives to see if there was a ruling on the subject.

Geoffrey had discovered that the senior members of the guilds and their deputies were judged on a par with village elders and thus had actually taken part in previous Grand Councils, so were entitled to vote in the present ballot.

Not only that, but it appeared that Uther had empowered certain higher ranks of soldiers to take part in the Grand Council. No doubt, Uther had had an ulterior motive, judging that men who had fought for him and been rewarded would do his bidding without question if he ordered them to carry out unpalatable actions.

Now Geoffrey and Walter believed that calculating decision would work firmly in Arthur's favour. If Camelot's knights and soldiers had obeyed the father out of a sense of duty, edged with fear, that same army would follow the son out of sense of respect and love. Arthur genuinely cared for each of his men and they returned the favour many times over.

The number of Arthur's and Merlin's followers was growing, while Avebury was steadily alienating many who might still be wary of magic, but who preferred to support The King whom they knew to be fair and just. The balance was steadily tipping in magic's favour. 

It was to reinforce this growing swell of loyalty that prompted Arthur to fetch Merlin, on the day before the ballot, to accompany him on an impromptu walk through the town.

It had come to Arthur's notice, when he checked in the vaults to discover if The Crystal of Neahtid had been found, that Merlin was looking extremely wan. The warlock's high cheekbones were etched starkly sharp beneath his skin, and he was acting very jittery in relationship to the crystal... almost as if he were afraid of using it.

Autocratically, Arthur decided that Merlin deserved a break and bore him off to enjoy a trip to the tavern. Their visit would also have the added bonus of taking stock of the state of mind of the ordinary people.

With only a couple of guards, the two friends walked through the gate of the citadel and immersed themselves in the somewhat carnival atmosphere in the town, which seemed to be a by-product of the Grand Council. Obviously, Camelot had never been so busy for a long time and the citizens were making hay while the sun shone.

Indeed, the sun was shining though the warmth was starting to fade now that autumn would soon be upon them. However, the walk was pleasant and the two men basked in the friendly attitude of Camelot's citizens, many stopping to thank them and wish them well in the coming ballot.

“See, Merlin, there's no doubt that if it were left to the common people the vote would go in our favour,” Arthur said with a laugh, having had his hand shaken hard by the very large blacksmith who had expressed his pleasure at recently being informed he had a vote due to his position as head of the Blacksmiths and Metalworkers' Guild.

When they'd walked past, Merlin asked quietly, “He has a vote?”

“Yes, Merlin, and had you not buried yourself in the vaults this morning you'd know that Walter, our foremost sergeant in Camelot's guard, asked Geoffrey if the many guild leaders would be entitled to vote, seeing as village and district elders had been enfranchised. They both went off to check immediately and discovered that they most certainly did. Now Walter and his mates are informing the people on Geoffrey's list who have been deemed members of the Grand Council.”

“That's amazing!” Merlin said, wide-eyed. “That must add quite a number of votes... assuming they're all on our side.”

Arthur nodded, while he greeted his people with smiles. “It does. To tell the truth, I'd no idea just how many guilds there were, but that shouldn't surprise me, as I'd no idea there was a Polishers Guild till I had to give them a speech!” 

The King and Merlin were stopped by a young boy and his mother who curtsied before him.

“Sire, my lord, forgive me for interrupting, but I wanted to thank you both for the life of my man. He's a soldier, Sire. He was hurt bad at Camlann, and he would've lost his leg for sure if it hadn't been for Iseldir... and then Lord Emrys here, who looked after him. He'll walk with a limp, but he will have both legs. I'm a simple woman, so I have no words to thank you enough...”

The woman sank into a lower curtsy while pulling her young son to his knees by her side. “Thank you, Sire, for bringing back good magic.”

At once, Arthur lifted both mother and son to their feet. “It might be a little early to thank us for that because the vote is not yet cast. But have no fear for your husband.” Arthur ruffled the boy's hair, thinking how thin he was. He hated seeing the results of penury within his realm, and he silently promised to open his treasure vaults to those hurt in his service. “Your husband will have the best of care. I promise he and all my injured men will be taken care of, as will their families., and I'm sure Merlin here will continue to treat him.”  
“Indeed I will, Evelyn,” Merlin said kindly. “Be sure Gaius and I will look in to see him soon.”

Walking on, Arthur gave his friend a surprised grin. “When do you find the time to do all the things you do? I take it that soldier isn't the only one you've treated. No wonder you look like something the cat dragged in.”

“Thank you, Sire!”

“Don't mention it.”

“To be honest, I haven't been able to do as much as I'd like,” Merlin admitted with a gamin grin, now a little out of place with his grand clothes. “What with annoying Grand Council meetings... and some stupid prat trying to kill himself by training in the pouring rain.”

“Am I ever going to hear the end of that?” Arthur rolled his eyes. “Believe me, I'm not about to repeat that mistake. I've too many responsibilities to risk my life in a fit of chagrin.”

“No! It's too good a tease for the moment,.” Merlin's smile widened. “Still, it's nice to know you've learned your lesson, but I suspect you'll do something else foolish to take its place.”

“Merlin, now and then I think you forget who you're talking to,” Arthur said sternly, but the twinkle in his eye betrayed his inner laughter. 

They'd reached the tavern and, without ceremony, they walked inside and found an empty settle in the far corner.

“As to the question of how the guilds will vote...” Arthur pondered for a second or two. “I'm sure there will be the odd members who are against magic, but judging by our reception, I think it's safe to say most wish us well.”

And to prove the point, the innkeeper arrived, almost immediately, at their table. “Your Highness, Lord Merlin, I'm honoured to welcome you to my humble tavern,” he said, sweeping his large hand around expansively.

Humble it certainly was, with a low-beamed ceiling and a somewhat precarious stair to the rooms above. Rustic tables and not the most comfortable of benches were crammed into the room whose only natural light came from two small windows either side of the door. Yet, because of the quality of its food and drink, it was the most popular inn in town. The knights and castle staff often spent their free time here, and even The King was known to join his men on occasion. 

“What can I do for you, Sirs?” asked the landlord, smiling and wiping the table with a less than white cloth.

“Two beakers of your finest mead,” Arthur answered; The Rising Sun's excellent mead being known throughout the town. 

“Coming right up, Sire.” The host gestured to his assistant to serve his guests. “And may I take this opportunity to thank you for giving me the vote on this magic question. I'm a chief member of the Brewers and Vintners Guild... and proud I am of it, but never more proud than I am today. Me voting in the Grand Council! And if you be wondering where my vote shall go... look around you.”

The innkeeper's hand swiped at a feather and crystal ornament hanging to the side of his head, and indeed a number of similar totems decorated the room. “I looked them out as soon as I heard the reason for your Grand Council,” the innkeeper said, grinning. “I'm that sure of the result.”

Arthur at once recognised them as very similar to those he had seen in the cave of The Disir. Were the majority of citizens within his kingdom supporters of magic? If so, it seemed his father had totally failed in ridding Camelot of sorcery. He'd only succeeded in sending it underground.

“That's good to know...” Arthur searched his memory for a name. “Sam!” 

It appeared this man once had a shock of red hair, though only a few tufts by his ear remained, which was a strange mixture of bleached red and oily grey. The man stood by smiling broadly as two beakers were placed before his important guests. 

“Thank you for your support, Sam. Merlin and I appreciate it and let's hope your prediction is correct.”

Bowing as he negotiated the tables backwards, Sam returned to his counter, while the rest of his customers touched their forelocks to the royal guests. Both Arthur and Merlin acknowledged the salutes.

“Please, it's not necessary. Ignore us and enjoy your drinks,” Arthur instructed in his friendliest manner. Though Arthur cared and respected all of his subjects, he couldn't quite rid himself of his royal upbringing. Merlin was much better at interacting with the common man. “My father would haunt me for eternity if he could see me drinking in a lowly tavern,” he said in an aside to Merlin.

Merlin took a swallow and almost choked. “True!” he replied, looking up with a moustache of creamy froth. “I can't see Uther ever frequenting a place like this, but you were never like your father.”

“Are you channelling Dragoon?” Arthur pointed to Merlin's face. “You've got foam on your top lip.” 

Merlin wiped his face with his brand new soft kerchief, surprised to enjoy some unexpected advantages that had come with his new clothes. He took another, more careful mouthful of ale, before sitting back in his seat and voicing his enquiry. “Why are we here?”

“We're canvassing, Merlin. Testing the mood of our citizens,” Arthur stated, gazing around the room. “And we're also relaxing; taking time out from our busy schedule. There's nothing wrong with that.”

“Arthur, you hardly ever relax.”

“True! But I'd never died before.” The King turned slightly toward Merlin. “Being dead makes you appreciate the finer things in life. Like this good ale for instance.” He lifted his tankard and savoured another swallow. “Like Camelot and my wife and the people I love. But this isn't about me. I want to know what's troubling you?”

“Me?” Merlin squeaked. “What could be troubling me? Everything I strived for is about to come to fruition. I'm fine.”

“No, you're not,” Arthur said, piercing Merlin with his steady blue stare. “And not everything is coming to pass... yet. Yes! You saved my life... and before you correct me, I'm aware Kilgarrah helped, but we both know he'd never have done so had you not asked.”

“That's not necessarily true,” Merlin protested, squirming a little under Arthur's gaze. The clot-pole was getting too observant for comfort. “Kilgarrah wanted you to reign to unite Albion, so he might have saved you anyway.”

“I'm not so sure about that, but that's beside the point. We're here to talk about why you're worried about the ballot. You've already told me you think it will go in our favour... with or without the aid of your crystals.”

“I haven't used the crystal!” Then there was a silence of some moments as Merlin considered his answer. Finally, he spoke, hesitantly. “I am confident...”

“But?” Arthur frowned as his eyes narrowed. “You don't sound too confident. So what's the matter? You can tell me.” Again there was another silence. “Come on, Merlin, having this conversation is like pulling teeth.” 

Merlin sighed, but answered, “Part of me is sure, but there is a tiny bit of me which is wondering what will happen if the vote goes against us.”

“Nothing! Things will just continue as they were before, only in practice I won't be prosecuting sorcerers just for using their skills. If they keep a low profile and don't use their powers to harm anyone, I will not touch them... and I'll instruct the council and the army that catching sorcerers for the odd, innocent spell is not a high priority. Also, I made my promise to the Druids to let them live in peace and I will keep my word.”

“But I'm not a Druid,” Merlin said morosely. “You've made no vow to protect me.”

“Merlin!” Arthur's voice rose a couple of octaves. “That's because I didn't think I had to.”

“You might not have a choice but to arrest me.”

Shaking his head in amazement, Arthur drawled, “Merlin, you are my friend... not just my friend. You've saved my life so many times over. Do you think I would let any harm come to you?”

“No. To be honest I didn't think you would,” Merlin replied softly, his head hanging low. “But I thought you might have to send me into exile.”

Turning in his seat and forcing Merlin to look at him, Arthur took a solemn oath. “Merlin, I never had a brother, though I often wished I had... and my relationship with my sister hasn't exactly worked out for the best. You are the brother I never had. I couldn't care for you more if we were of the same blood... and I will never allow you to be persecuted, or exiled from my land. As long as I am King you have a home in Camelot... and no law will ever change that.”

At his friend's words, Merlin's eyes watered and he brushed them with his sleeve.

“Merlin, what did I tell you about no man being worth your tears?” Arthur asked sternly, but his own moist eyes belied his words. “And I'm certainly not...”

“No, dollophead,” Merlin agreed, cracking a grin. “To tell the truth, I'm just amazed that you seem to be learning some wisdom at last.”

“Is it good to know your teaching is finally paying off?” Arthur, too, smirked.

Merlin blushed and his voice was again serious when he replied, “No, not exactly. I always knew you'd get there on your own, but I was glad to help along the way.”

“For the gods' sake, don't go praising me too highly, or I'll suspect you've been supplanted by a changeling.” Arthur clapped Merlin's shoulder. “But joking aside, I do need you, Merlin. Between you and Guinevere, you keep me focused, so don't worry that you'll be forced to leave Camelot... not unless you want to leave, and even then I'd do my best to persuade you to stay. The duty of kingship is too heavy to bear alone, and I can think of no better people than my personal advisor and my wife to aid me.”

Again Merlin's eyes began to twinkle. “Now I'm beginning to wonder who's replaced King Arthur.”

“I can do humble, Merlin... now and then!”

For moments, both men grinned, relaxing in each other's company while they drank their mead. “Do you plan on attending any of the debates this afternoon or the summing up tomorrow morning?” Merlin asked, stretching his gangly legs before him.

“No. Definitely not. I believe we've stated our case fully and I've no wish to listen to more of Avebury's arguments. Besides, Geoffrey of Monmouth offered to chair the meetings aided by Sir Newlyn and they'll alert us if we're needed.”

“Gaius is keeping an eye on the proceedings as well, so unless there are any unforeseen circumstances, I think we should stay away and allow the councillors to speak freely.”

“True.” Arthur nodded his head, looking around at the customers. “Perhaps some of the ordinary people will be more likely to speak up without royalty being present... if Avebury lets them that is.” He took another gulp of his ale. “As for the summing up, we have to attend, but I'd rather leave the actual speech to a more neutral party. I thought perhaps Lord Cedric Walton, though his wife does have magic. What do you think, Merlin?”

“He's a good choice. Hasn't spent too much time in Camelot, so can't be accused of being your close associate; he was a friend of your father's and he's a sensible, upstanding member of Albion's nobility...” 

Suddenly, their private conversation was interrupted as Sir Percival strode into the tavern. “Sire, please! You are needed back at the citadel!”

Arthur immediately assumed his kingly role, rising to meet the troubled knight. “What is it? What's happened? Has the meeting in the great hall degenerated into a riot?” Arthur asked, only half in jest.

The latter question flummoxed Percival. “Not that I'm aware of, Sire. Early reports have come in from the patrols,” he explained, but said no more as he noticed the interested glances of the inn's customers, whose heads had turned in curiosity at the large knight's arrival.

At once The King understood the need for privacy; the last thing Camelot required was a public panic. Laying a few coins on the table, he acknowledged his people with a calm smile, shepherded Merlin ahead of him and left the tavern in Percival's wake.

 

*****

 

In the city of Helva, Gilli pushed the door open on another tavern, a less prosperous and more dingy inn than The Rising Sun in Camelot. This was the third watering-hole in which he'd attempted to find Daman and he was beginning to despair. He had managed to acquire a horse, though a sorry specimen it was, and he'd finally reached Helva some time behind his quarry. He'd done the only thing he could think of and checked out all the taverns which were known to harbour sorcerers. Twice he'd drawn a blank, but as his eyes strayed over the dim interior, he sighed in relief.

Near the back wall he saw Daman talking earnestly with another man. Gilli sauntered closer, trying to appear casual, and leaned against a side wall, underneath a set of rickety stairs. Surreptitiously, he raised his hand bearing his ring to his ear and with a whispered spell, his ring and eyes flashed gold, a circumstance that in this place went unmarked. Most of these customers had a modicum of magic.

At once his magically enhanced hearing detected a whispered conversation, as Daman leaned in closer to his new acquaintance. “My patron is a very rich man and is willing to pay a great deal of money to any man who will help him attain his goal. I've been told that man is you.” Daman looked over his shoulder, checking that no one was interested in his conversation, and Gilli thanked his lucky stars that he'd stayed in the shadows and used his magic to snoop.

“That would depend on what his goal was,” replied the stranger, a bearded man with straggly brown hair and craggy features.

“Before I tell you, I have one question which you must answer.”

“And that would be?” the other man growled, giving very little of his thoughts away, and Gilli noticed a look of unease cross Daman's face.

“Do you have sorcery? I know it's highly likely because I was told this tavern was the place to find magic users.”

“A question like that could get me killed!”

“But not here in Helva,” Daman objected.

“True, though I suspect whatever you want me to do is to be carried out elsewhere.”

“Indeed it is. I do require a sorcerer, though it is your other skills I'm interested in,” Daman said persuasively, while from inside his cloak he drew a fat leather pouch and placed it on the table. “As I said, my master is willing to pay well.”

“For what?” the stranger asked again.

“To kill...”

Suddenly, an unseen hand gripped Gilli's shoulder and a voice spoke loudly in his ear, causing him to jump and lose concentration. “What can I do for you?” the innkeeper enquired in a less than friendly tone. “This isn't the street you know. People who come in here usually buy a drink, or something to eat.”

Hiding his frustration, Gilli quickly ordered a tankard of ale and a bowl of stew, and under the curious eye of the landlord, he slipped into the nearest seat. Whenever he was alone, he once more whispered the spell and resumed his eavesdropping.

“That's a risky undertaking.” Gilli was in time to hear the stranger state, though he had clearly missed the gist of said undertaking.

“Can you do it?” Daman asked eagerly. “I have half the payment here and we will pay the rest once the job is done.”

“I might be able to.” The unknown male lifted the purse, weighing it in his hands and seeming satisfied. “Let's say your need happens to march with my own, but getting into Camelot is no easy task.”

“My master will be able to help you with that. He's already in Camelot, being one of its most important lords. Besides, Camelot is packed to bursting right now... what with this Grand Council. I doubt another stranger will be noticed.”

“Grand Council?”

“King Arthur has called a Grand Council to debate the lifting of the ban on magic,” Daman answered, somewhat reluctantly. 

“It's long overdue!” The stranger gave a mirthless laugh. “But your master is against magic, so he wants to kill two birds with one stone by assassinating The Pendragon and placing the blame on a sorcerer,” he stated, showing he was no fool. “What surety do I have that you won't throw me to the wolves once the deed is done. Arthur's knights would show no mercy to the man who killed their king.”

“My master and I have nothing against magic. It's Arthur we have a disagreement with. He is not the true king, and you can be sure that when the rightful sovereign rules over Camelot, sorcery will be legalised.”

King Mark had nothing against sorcery, in principal, but he would execute anyone who had more power than he. Once this sorcerer carried out his mission he was a dead man. He just didn't know it. “If you help us,” Daman lied blatantly, “you will not only be rewarded handsomely but you will be offered a home in the new Camelot.” He sat back and allowed this information to sink into the sorcerer's mind.

“That takes care of the future, but I have to escape from Arthur's guards first.” The man stroked his beard, thinking.

“Couldn't you use sorcery to hide your tracks?”

A slow unpleasant grin spread across the stranger's face as he nodded. “I have a few tricks I might employ. But before I accept your commission, I would know the name of the man who employees me... and not you. I know you're just a lackey.”

For a few seconds, Daman looked troubled, but he quickly shrugged off his worries. After all, once Arthur was dead and Camelot invaded Avebury would no longer need to hide. “My lord is the Lord of Avebury. He holds a high position amongst Camelot's nobility.” 

“Then you have yourself a deal. Not just for the sake of your master, but because The Pendragon deserves to die for all he and his father have done to my people,” the sorcerer said, his voice filled with loathing. He stood and stashed the money pouch into a pocket of his homespun robe. “I will meet you in an hour outside the western gate.”

Daman also rose. “Wait!” He grabbed hold of the man's arm. “What are you called? I too require the name of the man I've hired.”

“Alvarr!” The sorcerer stared at Daman's hand. “Take your hand off me,” he ordered, speaking coldly, yet his eyes blazed fire. “Know this. I will kill Arthur Pendragon for you, but do not seek to control me. I am no man's servant.”

With those final words, Alvarr swept passed Gilli, who lowered his face to his bowl, not eating the vile concoction therein but not wishing to be seen either. Behind him, Avebury's retainer sank back into his seat, clearly feeling scared of the killer he had just employed. Gilli didn't blame him. He had heard that name before. Alvarr was a sorcerer to fear.

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments or kudos would be very welcome.


	28. Countdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camelot is once again in peril from an invading army and Arthur proves himself a worthy king, while Merlin stands by his soul-brother.
> 
> But Arthur is himself in danger. Will Gilli be in time to save the day?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again, Annie. You are a star! I'd also like to thank the guests who added kudos. You are all making me feel better about my writing.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Countdown

 

Arthur decided to meet with his scouts in the armoury, the one place which was off limits to any but the knights and soldiers of Camelot. Plus, other than his and Guinevere's chambers, it was one of the places in the castle where he felt most comfortable. He might be a non-combatant now, but he hadn't lost his knowledge and skill of fighting. Perhaps he could still instruct the apprentice knights in warfare? As long as he didn't take on too physical a job, he couldn't see why Merlin or Gaius should object.

Besides, he was The King, and he could do what he chose... or that's how it should work, but he was wise enough to know that, in reality, he really should heed his warlock and his physician, not to mention his wife, who wouldn't be very happy if he made himself ill. He didn't want to be an invalid either, but he did want to find a role for himself for the future. One he knew he was good at. It was just a pity the only thing he excelled at was wielding a sword!

Yet honesty compelled him to admit that his main use of force had always been to protect his people and his kingdom. Except in the tourney, victory had never been his sole aim. Long ago, when he was only the crown prince of Camelot, he'd begged his father not to retaliate when King Odin had sent an assassin to kill him to avenge the death of his son: a young man who'd sought to challenge him to mortal combat in a sadly mistaken quest for glory.

He'd understood Odin's pain and, though there had been a number of confrontations between himself and Odin down the years, they'd finally agreed on a truce. He much preferred Odin as an ally rather than an enemy.

As he did with Annis, Queen of Carleon. Her husband and his war-band might have trespassed on his kingdom and slaughtered a number of his people, but he'd been so very wrong to execute Carleon out of hand. Listening to his treacherous uncle's advice was really no excuse, and he would always be deeply ashamed of the decision he'd made when a young king. Fortunately, he'd realised his mistake, and Queen Annis had been forgiving enough to accept his offer of a duel between himself and her chosen champion. He'd succeeded in winning the contest, but had spared Carleon's man... an act of chivalry which had brought about a lasting friendship between their two realms.

Of course, he'd recently realised that a fair amount of sorcery had been practised on both sides. Even Annis had confessed to being beguiled by Morgana into accepting her aid, while he would have been prey for the crows on that far-off field, if not for Merlin's counter magic.

However, a lot of water had flowed under the bridge in the intervening years and he had, finally, learned wisdom... to know when to fight and when to yield. Now, as he listened to the account of an army amassing on his border, he believed, without a shadow of doubt, that they must confront Mark of Cornwall and prevent him from invading Albion.

The trouble was, it seemed that King Mark was also a clever military tactician. Camelot's scouts had caught sight of longboats bearing Cornwall's sigil sailing east along the southern shore heading in the direction of King Alined's kingdom. When the Five Kings had signed a treaty so long ago, neither Uther nor Arthur had been convinced by Alined's claim he was happy to embrace peace.

It was true he had never broken the peace openly, but Alined was devious and cowardly, a leader who would never rebel unless he was sure of success. Besides, he'd also had his hands full, holding back the encroaching tide of Saxons. Now that Camelot's army had defeated those Saxons, Alined might take advantage of Arthur's weakened state and the fact that a Saxon incursion was no longer imminent. If Mark of Cornwall offered him an alliance, Alined might decide that now might be a propitious time to go to war, which would mean Arthur would be fighting on two fronts.

Only yesterday, he, Guinevere and Merlin had been enjoying the prospect of a time of peace, yet here they were preparing to resist an invasion... Not to mention that tomorrow evening was the time when they would discover whether they'd won another type of victory, but one that was no less important.

When the messengers had departed, Arthur spoke, “It seems the peace we anticipated is still beyond our grasp.” For a few seconds The King looked disconsolate, yet Arthur was valour personified. “Once again, it appears we must defend our people... and I swear, as long as I have breath in my body, I'll allow no other warring kingdom to set foot on Albion's soil. Sir Leon, I'll need a roster of all our troops still fit to carry arms... and, Merlin, I don't care how you do it, but warn Annis and Odin and request them, if they would be so kind, to send reinforcements to Camelot's south-western borders where we will rendezvous with them in three days.”

“Sire, three days doesn't give us much time,” Leon said frantically. “I doubt our foot soldiers could muster and march so quickly, especially since they have so recently fought at Camlann.”

“I agree, which is why I've decided to take a mounted force only... at least, in the vanguard. Our foot soldiers can follow as soon as possible.”

“Cavalry only, Sire?” Leon still looked troubled. “I'm not sure we have enough mounted men to halt the Cornwallians.”

“Neither do I, which is why I am sending the request to our allies for horse-soldiers only. I want a mounted division which can move quickly and manoeuvre easily.” Arthur studied the map laid out on the table before him. “In order to leave Cornwall, Mark needs to cross the River Tamar with all its tributaries. In the south the terrain is covered with tidal mudflats and reed beds while the area north is heavily wooded, interspersed with heathland.” He traced his finger along the winding track of the river. “I mean to harry Mark's army all along this natural barrier until our foot can engage. So issue all our cavalry with crossbows and see they carry a plentiful supply of bolts, but any additional supplies must be carried on pack horses. We cannot allow ourselves to be bogged down by wagons. They can follow with the main army.” 

“Yes, my lord,” Leon replied, a glimmer of pride beginning to disperse the gloom he had first felt when hearing of yet another invasion and one in which his own relative was playing a part. “I'll issue the orders at once... and Sire, I apologise profusely for my family... and I will not let you down.”

“Sir Leon, I've never doubted you for a moment. I know you'll do your best for me and for Camelot.”

“But what of King Alined?” Percival interrupted The King, willing to draw attention away from Sir Leon, and knowing Arthur always encouraged his knights to speak their minds. “If he joins with Mark of Cornwall, we'll be fighting on two fronts.”

“True...” Arthur answered slowly, his hand slowly massaging his chest. “Yet so far we have only sightings of ships. We cannot know if Alined will ally himself with Mark.”

Leon shook his head. “I'd say it's a fair bet. Alined is a slippery character who has always looked with envy on Camelot. He might see this as a chance to carve up our kingdom between himself and Mark.”

“I totally agree,” Arthur said, pursing his lips. “But even if those ships have landed, Alined is a calculating devil who'll take some time to review all the angles. Then he has to prepare his troops for war. I'd say we have at least a week before Albion is assaulted from that direction, which is why I intend to ask Rodor to keep a watch in the east... and to protect our rear if needed. However, I'm hoping that if we can halt King Mark, Alined will decide not to act alone.” 

“That all sounds good, Arthur.” Merlin at last joined the discussion. “But what of Avebury? If he gets wind of your preparations, he'll warn King Mark of the mobilization, and I'm assuming that surprise is a big part of your plan.”

Arthur grinned and placed his arm round Merlin's shoulder. “Now that's where you come in. You know how you and Iseldir have enchanted Avebury's ravens...”

“You want us to do so again?”

“Yes. I think a little misdirection is in the cards, don't you?”

“And what of the Grand Council?” Merlin felt a lump form in his throat. The freeing of magic was too close a prospect and too dear a dream of his own to lose out now.

“It goes ahead, of course,” Arthur answered, gripping his friend's shoulder as he sensed his unease. “Nothing stops the vote, which is why I'm deputising Leon and Percival to oversee the muster, which I believe should take place in as much secrecy as possible outside the city... say within the cover of the Darkling Woods. I'll preside over the ballot and, hopefully, that will also persuade Avebury that his master's plans have gone unnoticed. Once the vote has been counted, then we ride after the army with all speed.” Arthur drew himself up. “You have your orders, gentlemen. For the moment, I leave the defence of my realm in your very capable hands.”

 

*****

 

“Arthur! You cannot mean to go with the army to oppose King Mark?” Merlin demanded as the two found refuge in Merlin's chambers. Although fuming and worrying, he had kept silent as they walked from the armoury to the palace wing which held the private apartments.

It was very telling that Arthur had chosen to bypass his own door and headed straight to Merlin's. Was he wary of confronting Gwen with his plan?

“And you cannot expect me to remain safe within Camelot while my men are in danger!” he snapped, his face assuming a stubborn pout. “If at all possible, I don't intend to fight, but I will not send men to risk their lives while I cower within my stronghold. Don't ask that of me... because that's not who I am. I doubt I could change that much, even if I wanted to.” He'd marched straight to the back wall and to the table which carried an ornate pitcher of wine. “Do you want one?” he asked as he poured himself a drink.

“No... and you shouldn't either. You need to keep a clear head...”

Turning in surprise, Arthur glared at Merlin. “Don't forget who you're speaking to... and don't lecture me. I don't need to be reminded of my disability. Believe me, I feel the pain every moment of every day.”

“You're still in pain?” Now it was Merlin's turn to look shocked. “Have you taken your medicine today?”

“Yes! Stop fretting.” He threw back his drink. “Guinevere makes sure I don't forget... and it's not a sharp pain, at least, not all the time,” he admitted with a surly roll of his shoulders. “I'm getting so used to the dull ache that I hardly notice it.”

“You'll notice soon enough if you go galloping all over the country,” Merlin said huffily. Pouting wasn't Arthur's sole prerogative, but Merlin very soon realised the futility of his annoyance and said more reasonably. “Arthur, please think about this. All of Camelot needs you... not just the army.”

Unexpectedly, Arthur's obstinacy evaporated. “Merlin, I'm asking the army to fight another battle when they're barely recovered from the last one. Many of them are still suffering and if I can't fight alongside them, the least I can do is share their pain. They need to know that I am with them. Surely you can understand that?”

Silence settled on the room as King and Warlock locked stares, yet it was Merlin who finally dropped his gaze and spoke quietly from the deep well of his compassion. “I do understand, my friend. What do you need from me?” he added simply.

“Not much.” Arthur's smile was crooked. “Just your company and your care... and I need you to keep me alive. Contrary to what you might believe, I don't have a death wish, but I can't neglect my people. Any of them.”

Seeing Arthur so vulnerable and asking for help, Merlin thought his king had never been so noble or courageous. Uther Pendragon might have been recognised far and wide as a strong king, yet he'd never matched his son in true valour.

“You know you'll always have my support, even if I don't agree with you.” Merlin quickly poured himself a drink. “But, in this instance, I actually do comply. No one can inspire the army like you. Heaven help me, but I'll stay by your side, as always, and I'll do my very best to bring you safe home.” He clinked Arthur's cup and drank. “Here's to the future!”

“The future!” Arthur echoed Merlin's words and actions. “Whatever it might bring.”

“Well, saving your life is a priority, or Gwen will skin me alive,” Merlin stated with a laugh.

“Yeah gods! How do I tell Guinevere?”

“Now that I leave up to you.” Merlin's grin widened. “She's your wife.”

Arthur's skin paled at the thought of the coming conversation with his queen. “She'll understand that I have to go, Merlin.” At that, Merlin's laughter threatened to overcome him. “She will!” Arthur reiterated, but whether to assure Merlin or himself was unclear.

“Good luck with that, Sire.” Merlin straightened. “But take my advice and talk to her as soon as possible. If she hears your plans from Leon or Percival, she's going to be a lot angrier.”

“You're right, of course.” Arthur finished his wine, hoping it would give him courage. “I'd better go find her to explain.” He hurried across the room, but turned in the doorway and his parting shot proved the warlord hadn't completely been replaced by the harassed husband. “Merlin, talk to Iseldir about intercepting Avebury's messages. We want to control his information to King Mark... and send word to Queen Annis and King Odin about those reinforcements. Can you do that quickly? There's no time for a normal messenger.”

“Yes, Sire. Villains aren't the only ones who can use ravens.”

“Good. I rely on you to know what to say. We'll talk later... if I'm still in one piece.”

As the door closed, Arthur heard his servant break into peals of laughter. He didn't blame him. Arthur would rather face King Mark's army than an angry Guinevere, and Guinevere was going to be cross.

 

***** 

 

When Arthur found his wife and broached the touchy subject of his going to war again, he discovered Guinevere was a great deal more sympathetic than he'd expected. There were particular reasons for her understanding, the first being that not only would Merlin be accompanying him but Iseldir had also tendered his services in the meantime.

The Druid had offered to help with Arthur's care, plus any soldiers injured in battle. At first, Gaius had proposed to go, but Iseldir felt the physician was getting too old to take part in a fast moving campaign. Isledir might be a pacifist, but he'd thrown his lot behind Arthur and Merlin's objectives, and he was not so naïve to believe that all battles were not worth fighting. On occasion, peace had to be won. 

And Gwen was well aware that Iseldir's medicinal skills almost matched Gaius', while he probably outdid Gaius when it came to magic. She was certain her husband would be well looked after.

Yet her paramount reason for hiding her concerns were due to how well she knew Arthur. Many years ago, when their love was only a dream for the future, she'd learned that Arthur was very unsure of his worth, despite being a pampered prince. Over the years, he'd grown in confidence and integrity to become the type of king she'd always imagined he would. 

Only now Arthur's world had shifted and doubt was seeping into his soul once more. He needed time to figure out how to be a different king, and going on this campaign was part of that process. She believed him when he said he didn't intend fighting. He had too much to live for: a realm to protect, a child to raise and to nurture. Besides, although she doubted he could sustain hard combat, he had an instinctive strategic brain and the gift to galvanise tired, dejected soldiers to give of their best time and time again. Despite his incapacity, Arthur was still an inspirational leader, yet he had to discover that for himself.

Therefore, Guinevere kept her anxieties and fears locked within her soul and, when the time came, she would send him off with encouraging words and a brave smile. There would be time enough to shed her tears when he'd gone.

 

*****

 

Gilli pushed his horse as hard as he might but was still afraid of being overtaken. Though he'd appropriated another mount in Helva by way of leaving his broken nag with a number of coins in a pouch tied to its saddle, he was well aware he hadn't made a great exchange in horseflesh. 

As the servant of a rich lord, Daman had a very decent mount and he could no doubt afford to buy a similar steed for the man he'd hired. And Gilli only had a head start of one hour.

After a number of miles, he felt his horse begin to founder and he slackened speed. He might not be an experienced rider, but he knew he had to spell his horse if he wanted to make it back to Camelot to warn King Arthur before Daman and the assassin arrived.

There was still a couple of hours to night fall when he decided he must take a break for the sake of his mount, but he would sleep only an hour or two. He'd travel a second night through the dark, using his magic to negotiate when the moon chose not to aid him with its light. But for all his contriving, he was certain that Daman would also be forcing the pace.

From the conversation he'd overheard at the temple, Avebury wanted Arthur killed as soon as possible. Perhaps there was not enough time to do the deed before the result of the ballot, but a favourable vote would likely be overturned if a sorcerer murdered The King. Magic would once again be outlawed in Camelot.

Which was why it was imperative that Gilli made the journey back with all speed. He just hoped he and his borrowed horse was up to the challenge.

 

*****

 

As Gilli settled down for a short nap, perhaps he might not have worried so had he known what was happening some distance behind him. Daman and Alvarr too had decided to rest, but each with different agendas on their minds.

Avebury's servant had made light of the difficulties of carrying out an assassination within Camelot, but he knew they needed to keep their wits sharp and arriving exhausted at the city was not an option. Better to take a break now and travel the rest of the way at first light. If they arrived while the vote was taking place or shortly afterwards, he felt sure they could merge in easily with Camelot's swollen population.

The sorcerer, Alvarr, was planning something else entirely. Daman's earlier suggestion about using a sorcerer's trick to hide his identity brought an evil glint to his eyes as he sat by their fire. The liege-man had no idea that Alvarr's identity was known to King Arthur and his knights. If he had known, Alvarr was sure the stupid man would have sought out another killer, yet that would have deprived him of his chance at retribution and he wasn't about to let that happen.

To be honest, he didn't expect to escape alive. Alvarr was willing to die for his cause... to sacrifice everything to kill Arthur Pendragon.

Staring through the flaring orange flames, his eyes narrowed with revulsion; he disliked noblemen and royalty with a passion. In general, he'd found them to be an arrogant, self-seeking breed whose life-style relied on grinding the commoners into an existence of abject poverty. He had no pangs of guilt about what he was to do.

Alvarr watched as Daman wrapped himself in his cloak and settled down to sleep. He carefully pulled his satchel closer to him and felt inside, letting his hand rest on a small wooden box hidden in the depths of his belongings. The box wasn't important, but its contents had been a rare gift from one of his tutors in that magical land of Eire where he had found a place of safety and learning. He traced the rune marks on the box while biding his time... time to be sure that his companion was deeply asleep.

Soon a snore issued from the bundled man on the opposite side of the fire and Alvarr moved. With stealth he crept around the camp, hugging the shadows, his hand now drawing a long, evil glinting dagger from his belt. Alvarr was an expert in his craft and in a matter of seconds and without the slightest hint of regret, he pulled back Daman's head, slanting the knife across the man's throat, expertly slashing the jugular vein. Daman's eyes snapped open, but there was little he could do to help himself. In a few seconds, those eyes glazed over and he slumped to the ground while his blood pooled around him.

Working quickly, Alvarr retrieved the box, opening it reverently to reveal the magic crystal hidden therein. He carefully placed the crystal in the stream of blood, smiling as he did so, before slipping the jewel on its chain around his neck and then waited as the transformation occurred. The magic crystal enabled the wearer to take on the persona of whosoever blood it touched.

Alvarr rose slowly, fingering his face, amazed that he felt no hair upon his chin, no angular features nor wide mouth. Instead his face was round, his cheek's slightly puffy, his lips full. He looked down at his body and found it too had changed shape. It was very strange; mentally he felt no different, only his appearance was transformed.

Quickly he picked up Daman's saddlebags, emptying the contents on the ground. These clothes had blood on them, and he couldn't afford to alert anyone in Camelot to his nefarious purpose.

There was one major hurdle he had to surmount. The moment he showed up in Camelot, he felt certain this Lord Avebury would approach the man he believed to be his subordinate, and he'd have to convince him that he was the true Daman. However, Alvarr had confidence in his ability at subterfuge and he had only to fool him for as long as it took to kill Arthur Pendragon... After that, he didn't care what happened to him, though he might just kill this pompous noble for good measure.

Perhaps he might see the Lady Morgana one last time. Though she had spurned him, he would have liked to talk to her again. Her memory might have returned... and she could take up the fight to bring magic back to the land, yet if Daman had spoken the truth, Arthur was about to do that.

Maybe he was wrong to kill Arthur, but he couldn't forget his parents or the many other of his friends who had been tortured and executed by The Pendragons. Best that he strike Arthur down then turn the blade upon himself. Only then would all the ranks of sorcerers... both old and young... who plagued his nightmares and his waking dreams be avenged.

Once he'd changed into a set of clean clothes, Alvarr doused the fire, dragged Daman's body into the undergrowth, before packing his bags. If he rode through the night he might reach Camelot a few hours past noon. He pulled himself into the saddle of one of the horses and left the murder scene without a backward glance.

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's Sunday's post. Please let me know your thoughts and if you think my story worthy.


	29. The Day of Reckoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Merlin have an early morning chat and Arthur reveals his fears for the future. Thankfully, Merlin is reassuring.
> 
> The final day of the debate is here, only the voting and counting those votes is left.
> 
> Again telepathic communication between Merlin and Arthur is denoted like this: ~~.....~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do have to thank a few people who left kudos and one who is registerd on this archive. Thank you, wholockedpsycho7. I haven't forgotten the guests though, nor have I forgotten Annie. Thanks again for your comments. You do make me feel better about posting this story.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The Day of Reckoning

 

A grey-clouded sky overhung the citadel, yet the air was eerily still, almost as if the earth held its breath on this momentous day of reckoning.

Neither Merlin nor Arthur had slept well during the night, their minds too focused on the coming vote. However Guinevere, who for months had suffered the torments of haunted dreams, slumbered peacefully on, and Arthur was happy to let her, Gaius already having warned him that she needed plenty of rest in her pregnant condition.

He washed and dressed quickly and quietly, not waiting for George to arrive and proving he was now capable of looking after his own ablutions. He always had been, but tradition and his position as Crown Prince and then King had encouraged his indolence with mundane tasks. His brush with death had completely changed his outlook and his habits of a life time.

There would always be certain protocols to be observed, but in his private life he now had little time for royal prerogatives.

On the other hand, he didn't turn aside the breakfast that George brought, but while instructing him to quietness, he gestured the servant to place the tray on the table. He pulled the curtains around the bed, giving Guinevere a modicum of privacy, before whispering to his servant.

“George, could you please check to see if Merlin is awake, and if he is, ask him to join me for breakfast. But don't wake him. He's under a lot of stress at present,” Arthur added, noticing George too was looking a trifle harassed. With an uncharacteristic insight, Arthur spoke. “As are you. This has been an extremely busy time for you, and I thank you for your conscientiousness. You've looked after the running of the citadel amazingly well. Once The Grand Council is over, you must take some time off. Perhaps you can visit your family.”

Arthur suddenly realised he knew very little about George, whether he had a family or not. He was fairly sure that Guinevere would know, but he really should have made it his business to discover the background of someone who was so instrumental to the smooth running of the domestic side of his citadel.

“Thank you, Sire. I do have an elderly mother who lives in the lower town and I haven't had much chance to check on her in these past few days,” George replied, unbending a little, yet only for a moment. “But my duty to you and Camelot is my first priority.”

“Not so, George. Life is fleeting... and uncertain, so we should take care of the people who love us while we can. You must visit your mother and see to her comfort as soon as possible. Everyone will be concentrating on the vote this afternoon, so I'm sure the citadel can spare you for a few hours.”

“If you insist, Your Highness.” George snapped his heels together and bobbed his head. “My mother will be happy to see me.”

“Good! Oh, and George, after you speak to Lord Merlin, could you find Mary Howden and ask her to visit The Queen this morning.”

The servant backed out of the room and shortly afterwards Merlin stuck his head around the door. “Did you want me for anything in particular, Arthur?”

Arthur's eyebrows rose. “No, not really. I just wanted to make sure you ate something this morning. Do you have somewhere special to be?”

“No. But I thought I might try using the Crystal of Neahtid.”

“You're brave! I'm not sure I want to know the result of the ballot beforehand,” Arthur admitted with an anxious laugh, sitting down and starting to pick at his food.

“And I'm not sure the crystal will tell us. It tends to have a mind of its own.” Merlin too sat down at the table and helped himself to some bread and cheese. “When I've used it in the past, it hasn't exactly predicted anything good... or straightforward. It's more just random scenes.”

“Yet the crystals in the cave warned you my army was about to be outflanked at Camlann. That was how you were able to warn me?” Arthur reflected, light beginning to dawn in his brain. He was learning a whole new perspective on his friend's former actions. “I'd say that was a very good outcome.”

“The crystals came up trumps that time. The trouble is they show the bad as well as the good. In fact, they might show nothing of the voting. They could concentrate on Mark's army... or something else completely which we have no idea is going to happen...”

The King's voice dropped to a whisper. “Like will Guinevere survive the birth of our child?”

“Whoa! Where did that come from?”

“Merlin, I've tried to put the terrible thought from my mind... I really have, but it keeps creeping back in,” Arthur said, his voice desperate while his eyes looked lost and lonely.

“Arthur, that's too far in the future to foretell. The crystal here, or those in the cave only show what's about to happen.” Merlin too spoke quietly, yet a note of calm resonated within his voice. “You're worrying unnecessarily. Gwen is healthy and strong, and she has Gaius and myself to look after her. She and the baby will be fine.”

Arthur's teeth gnawed at his bottom lip, his head shaking from side-to-side. “I am happy, Merlin. About the baby I mean. Ecstatic even... yet I can't help but be anxious. My own mother died in childbirth...”

“Because of dark magic...”

“But even without magic involved there can be complications and women can die!”

“Yes!” Merlin stretched out his hand and laid it on The King's shoulder. “Women die all the time... and not just in childbirth. But a lot of women survive having children quite happily too... more than once.”

“I'm not sure I could go through this stress more than once...”

“I believe being stressed is a husband's lot in all this, but think of poor Gwen; she's the one who has to carry the child,” Merlin muttered with a sigh.

“I'm well aware of that, Merlin. Don't you think I would take that burden from her if I could? I just don't want to lose her, which is why I won't risk another pregnancy.”

“You might not have a choice, unless you're thinking of adopting celibacy.” Merlin received a challenging look from his sovereign at this suggestion. “And don't you think Gwen might think differently?”

There was a stirring from behind the bed curtains and Guinevere called out. “Did I hear my name mentioned... and what might I think differently about?”

Arthur and Merlin looked towards the bed like two hunted deer.

~~Merlin, she can't know how worried I am!~~

~~Don't worry. I have no intention of telling her. I'm not that brave! But maybe you should speak to her.~~

Guinevere stepped from the confines of the closed curtains, her shawl clutched untidily around her body, her skin looking decidedly green.

“Guinevere, are you feeling ill?” Arthur asked, rising and walking quickly to his wife's side.

“Why do you ask?” she replied irritably, nevertheless she leant into the shelter of his open arms.

“Because you look... sick,” Arthur answered, his face a picture of shock and solicitude.

“That's because I'm about...”

However Gwen got no further as she threw up the contents of her stomach into a floating bowl.

“Where did that come from?” Arthur demanded, though his question was answered as he turned to Merlin. The warlock's eyes glowed golden and a large grin was plastered across his face, as fruit tumbled on the table and dropped to the floor. “Thank you for that,” Arthur said, plucking the empty fruit bowl from the air and holding it in front of Gwen.

For some moments, the only sound in the room was poor Guinevere's retching, though that too died away and Arthur helped his wan-faced wife to sit at the table. “Perhaps you should eat something,” the concerned husband suggested, receiving a disgusted stare from Gwen for his trouble.

Merlin poured a cup of water, pushing it into Gwen's hands. She sipped carefully at the offering. “Thank you, Merlin.”

Arthur objected, pouting. “I only thought you should...”

“Arthur, be quiet!” Gwen interrupted quickly, though not unkindly. After taking another drink, she laid her hand on his arm. “Don't worry. I'm sure we'll grow accustomed to all this. I will eat when I feel able. Now what is it I might feel differently about?”

Both men stared at each other again.

“Ah, that! Well...” Merlin began slowly.

~~Merlin, please don't! I promise I will talk to her about my fears... but in my own time.~~

“Well... Arthur and I were wondering if having a celebration... if the vote goes in our favour... was such a good idea due to the fact that Mark and his army are heading in our direction.”

Gwen's glance strayed between Merlin and her husband, suspiciously, before voicing her opinion. “I think you should. After all, the people don't know about King Mark's invasion force. I know you're planning on slipping out of the city to join your knights, so wouldn't a large public party be the perfect cover?”

“As always, Guinevere, you're right. Merlin and I can sneak off during the celebrations, but are you sure you're up to a party, especially since you'll be in charge after we leave? I don't want you making yourself ill.”

“Arthur!” Gwen's voice rose in exasperation. “I've told you before... I'm having a baby, I am not sick.”

“You actually look quite a bit sick... sweetheart,” he added the endearment, hoping to forestall an argument.

“That's morning sickness. Every woman has that in the early months. You're just going to have to get used to that, and not imagine I'm dying at every turn.”

Arthur's jaw dropped and his face paled at Gwen's words. Had his wife also turned mind reader?

“You're letting your imagination run away with you... aren't you?” she said, a glint of realisation in her eyes. Her voice softened as she reached out to touch his cheek. “Arthur, I know your mother died because of your birth, but that was in entirely different circumstances. I'm well, and I've every confidence in Gaius and Merlin and you must put your fears behind you. I've no intention of leaving you.”

“I'm sure my mother thought that too.” Arthur's shoulders drooped and he couldn't look at his wife. Although normally he was blessed with a resourceful nature, there were times when despair overtook him.

“I agree,” Gwen said, her voice trembling with emotion. “Arthur, please look at me.” When his gaze rose to her face, she continued, her voice soft, yet gathering in conviction. “These last few weeks have taught me that our future is never guaranteed, but we have to face whatever is before us with courage and love.” She stared into his eyes, so clear and so true. “Oh, my dear, do you think I don't fear that soon you'll leave me again... never to return. Yet if we allow our terrors to overwhelm us, we'll never take pleasure in the time we have now.”

A smile settled gently on Arthur's lips and his eyes shone with love. “I don't know what good I did to deserve you, Guinevere, but the gods surely blessed me when they sent you to my side.” He bent and kissed her lips.

In the background, Merlin too smiled. He was happy for his best friend and the brother of his soul, yet he couldn't repress a little envy. He had loved Freya with a youthful passion, but they hadn't been given the blessing of time for that love to blossom. Would he ever find another love, or was he doomed to walk this world alone? Seeing Gwen and Arthur so happy before him... Merlin prayed for the impossible.

Suddenly, The King and Queen remembered they weren't on their own and both turned to Merlin, but it was Arthur who spoke. “Merlin, please don't use the crystal. Let's just take our chances with whatever happens.”

“If you'd rather. We only have to wait till the end of the day for the result of the ballot,” Merlin said, studying the dishes on the table and sampling a few delicacies. He truly was quite hungry... and composed, the certainty that all would be well beginning to envelope him like a comforting blanket.

Even Gwen's pallor was beginning to fade and she stretched out and plucked a grape from Arthur's plate, smiling as he frowned in mock displeasure. “Hey, get your own plate!” he instructed, filling a platter with a small amount of Gwen's favourite foods, but knowing instinctively not to over-burden her. “This is nice,” he added, sitting back in his chair, as if Merlin's feeling of well-being was catching. “We three having breakfast together.”

“Oh, do I count now?” Merlin asked cheekily, having spent a great many of his years in Camelot as almost a non-person.

“Don't be ridiculous, Merlin. You always did... though I wouldn't admit it.”

“There should be four of us,” Gwen said with a thoughtful smile on her face. “Isn't there anyone you hold special, Merlin?”

“Only you, my lady,” Merlin answered with a mock bow to hide his sorrow and jealousy.

“Careful, Merlin. Guinevere is already spoken for.”

“Poppycock! I'm like a sister to you, Merlin.” The light-hearted banter was settling Gwen's stomach and she found herself able to eat a little. “I meant, don't you have a girl who you like in a different manner?”

“Once there was someone... a long time ago, but she died,” Merlin replied morosely, his usual good humour deserting him momentarily.

“In Camelot?” The Queen asked again, trying to review all the women she'd seen Merlin with since he arrived in the city.

“Sort of. She wasn't from Camelot but I did meet her here. It was when I first arrived and I never think about her now. Well, hardly ever,” Merlin stated, before quickly changing the subject. “It's no longer important and we've many other concerns to worry over now.”

Arthur, however, was not to be distracted. “I always thought you were sweet on Sefa!”

The warlock's pale complexion turned slightly pink, as once again he tried to direct the talk away from his love life... his non-existent love life. “She was a sweet girl...”

“Who committed treason.”

“Arthur!” Gwen returned with some force and a certain amount of wistfulness. “She only did so out of love for her father. I swear she didn't have an evil thought in her head. I often wondered what happened to her. In fact, I'd like to ask her to be my maid again. We worked well together until Ruadan interfered. Would you mind having her back in Camelot, Arthur?”

A tiny smirk curled up The King's lip, but he hurriedly repressed it. His wife was a very clever woman who could be very devious on occasion. Yet her ideas marched with his on this subject. Merlin was lonely. “Not at all. I doubt she'd pose any threat now, especially if the vote comes out the way we want it too, and there's no denying you need a personal handmaiden, Guinevere.”

Merlin's cheeks grew distinctly redder, as his glance flitted from one royal to the other. “Are you two matchmaking?”

Guinevere had the grace to look slightly abashed, however her husband was unrepentant.

“Come on, Merlin,” Arthur said, punching his friend's arm lightly. “Wouldn't you like to see Sefa again?”

Merlin frowned, rubbing his arm, wishing Arthur would learn a different way of showing he cared... even a slight pummel from Arthur could hurt. “Be careful, dollop-head. You don't know your own strength!”

“Sorry.” Arthur pulled a face that hinted at contrition. “It was only a tap.”

“A tap? Hmph!” Merlin huffed before conceding, “I might like to meet Sefa again. But are you forgetting that Camelot was responsible for her father's death? This is probably the last place she wants to be.”

“I'm not so sure about that, Merlin,” Gwen said thoughtfully. “She was sorry she betrayed us. I believe she was happy here.”

“And I didn't ask Raudan to side with Morgana. He was a Druid,” Arthur stated, matter-of -factly. “I'd already made my peace with them long since. When Elyan was possessed by the spirit of the Druid boy, I took an oath they would live in peace from that day forward. You know I only broke that promise if any of them took up arms against us.” The King pushed back from the table and began to pace. “For the gods' sake, I offered Kara a pardon if she'd renounce her vendetta against Camelot... and she'd been responsible for killing a number of our people. Why didn't she take it?” he asked, his voice tight with suppressed anger and confusion. “None of this would have happened if she'd only agreed. Mordred wouldn't have hated me; Morgana would never have discovered you were Emrys. Perhaps she would never have been strong enough to fight at Camlann!”

“Arthur, please, don't do this to yourself again!” Gwen rose quickly to stand in front of him, placing her hands against his chest. “We were only discussing Sefa...”

“Fate works in mysterious ways, Arthur,” Merlin said. “Perhaps we wouldn't be here today if those things hadn't come to pass. Besides, haven't we decided to put the past behind us? Today could be the dawning of a new age and we should concentrate of that.”

Arthur subsided noticeably, almost collapsing into Guinevere's embrace and burying his face into her plaited hair for a long moment while his wife and friend waited, somewhat concerned. Since coming back from the dead, The King's mood could be somewhat volatile. Yet they needn't have worried.

“You're right. Both of you,” Arthur agreed, lifting his head and smiling reassuringly at Gwen. “Sorry. I don't know why I lost it there.”

“Perhaps because you're worried about the result of the vote... or King Mark's incursion?” Gwen smoothed her husband's tousled hair. “You're beset with troubles, my dear, but you're not alone. Merlin and I are here to share your burdens.”

Behind them, Merlin rose from the table. “You never were alone, Arthur... but I think we should deal with one problem at a time. If it makes you happy, once magic is returned to the realm and we've seen off King Mark, we can look for Sefa...”

“You make it all sound so easy, Merlin.” Arthur said somewhat sceptically, yet he did manage a rueful smile. “As for Sefa, only if you want her found. Gwen and I want you to be happy. And I'm sorry for my outburst.”

“What outburst?” Merlin asked cheekily, his grin wide, and was pleased to see Arthur return his smile. “You know, if you're ready, we should make our way to the great hall. The summing up should be beginning soon and I'm sure our presence is expected.”

“We should. But if I've to listen to many more of Avebury's salacious lies, I might just throw him in the dungeons!”

“Arthur, you can't,” Guinevere said with some alarm. “He's only championing his side of the argument for the moment. No one but us knows he's in league with Mark of Cornwall. Arresting him isn't an option... yet.”

“I know, Guinevere. I was just wishful thinking for a moment there.” He pulled his wife into his side for a gentle hug. “I promise I'll resist my impulses. Are you joining us? If you feel unwell, you don't have to be there.”

“It's as much my duty as yours to oversee the closing of the debate. I'll wait for Mary to help me get ready and come to the hall later.”

“Good. But take your time, Guinevere. I'm sure there will still be a lot of boring speeches to listen to this morning.” The King lifted her hand and pressed a kiss thereon before striding towards the door. “Come on, Merlin. At least in a few hours we'll know if magic has a future in Camelot!”

 

*****

 

If Arthur had expected boring speeches during the summing up stage of the debate, he was sadly disappointed. In fact, listening to Avebury's sarcastic, verging on scandalous summation he would have settled for boring.

The man had stayed silent in the final arguments, allowing others to raise new or repeat their objections to sorcery and only taking centre stage when asked to make the closing speech for the Anti-magic party.

Lord Brennan Avebury's demeanour seemed to assume a regal pose as he made his way to the dais, throwing a threatening look at both Merlin and The King. He turned slowly and surveyed the crowded hall. If the previous day's audience had diminished, it appeared all of Camelot's enfranchised population had returned for the final stages of the debate.

For a long moment, Avebury held himself perfectly still and quiet, till a faint awkward shuffling pervaded the hall. Only then did he smile...

“Your Highness,” he said, glancing almost casually over his shoulder at the throne while withholding the customary salute. “Noble Lords, Knights of Camelot... and commoners.” The last was added like a distasteful afterthought. “I come before you today to uphold the status quo; the law as laid down by the late, great king of Camelot... Uther Pendragon. I will not reiterate the numerous grounds which led King Uther to pass such decrees. Many of you have repeated those very reasons in the course of this debate, reasons which prove beyond doubt the need for sorcery to be outlawed for the good of all.”

He hesitated as the side door swung open to admit The Queen and her ladies. Although irritated by the interruption, Lord Brennan was, nevertheless, forced to bow his head to Guinevere. In the background, Arthur and Merlin exchanged a tiny smile. Guinevere could not have chosen a more appropriate moment for her entrance.

“Your Highness,” Avebury ground out, having to wait till The Queen acknowledged him before sitting on her throne, an action which seemed to take an inordinate amount of time. Finally, when Guinevere was settled and her ladies grouped at the edge of the stage, Arthur spoke quickly.

“You may continue, Lord Avebury.” The King bowed his head slightly, a gesture both royal and condescending. Two could play Avebury's game.

“Thank you, Sire.” Avebury's throat burned with a barely disguised loathing, as he was forced to acknowledge Arthur's kingship. He swallowed down his bile and returned to the task. “If I speak of your father, Arthur, it is only out of respect for his judgement.”

“Yet you spent most of his reign away from Camelot!” Arthur couldn't resist the riposte, his knuckles clenched white on the arms of his throne, but he too buried his ire. This was not the time to alert Avebury to their suspicions.

“A circumstance which I regret,” Lord Brennan stated in mock contrition. “However, I am home now, and if I am arguing against your proposal, Sire, it is not out of ridicule. It is merely that I believe wholeheartedly that you are wrong... and I advise you to uphold your father's laws. Sorcery should not be returned to Camelot.” He turned again to the audience, raising his voice that all might hear. “Your Sovereign Lord is a good King and a great warrior, but perhaps he has not the wisdom nor the prudence of his father. He allows his heart to rule his head. Though that might be a good thing in ordinary mortals, it is not a luxury a sovereign can afford if he is to rule his people.” 

Allowing some moments for his words to sink in, Avebury surveyed the throng. Many of the faces stared back at him with open hostility while a menacing muttering rolled through the hall. Clearly Arthur was a well-loved King and he attacked him at his peril. The nobleman realised his mistake and back-pedalled somewhat.

“But I should not chastise King Arthur for doing what he believes is right... I simply wonder if his motives are sound. He makes no secret of his friendship with a known sorcerer. We must ask ourselves if this debate would even be taking place were it not for that close relationship.”

“Lord Avebury!” Geoffrey of Monmouth's uncharacteristically harsh voice carried across the heads of the people. “You forget yourself! The topic of this debate is whether magic should be legalised or not. It is not an evaluation of our lord Arthur's Kingship. Should you have anything new to say then please speak on... or close your summation.”

Again Avebury gave a curt nod of the head. Damn the meddling old man! He was sure he was beginning to sway the members of the crowd who had yet to make up their minds. Now his hands were tied, but he wasn't totally dismayed. He hadn't come to Camelot to ruin the ballot. There was a greater purpose waiting in the near future, yet causing dissension had seemed an added bonus. At least he'd been able to keep The King and his knights off track. Arthur had no inkling of the trials that would be unleashed upon him in the next few days.

“I stand corrected... and I have nothing left to say, but I would ask the citizens of this great land to consider the question carefully and return a resounding no to the suggestion of magic being given a free rein in this safe haven which King Uther created.”

The clapping which welcomed the end of Lord Avebury's speech was unenthusiastic, to say the least and without further ado, Geoffrey of Monmouth introduced the next speaker.

“Lord Cedric Walton to speak on behalf of the Pro-magic campaign!”

A rumble of comments spread throughout the hall, most of the crowd expecting either King Arthur or Lord Merlin to address the company on behalf of magic. However, the people settled quickly as Lord Walton cleared his throat.

“First of all, I would like to thank you all for attending this first Grand Council in over thirty years. I and the royal party thank you for your participation, and may I ensure everyone, on behalf of The King, that there will be no reprisals whatever the result of the ballot. Each one of you is free to vote as you see fit.”

Lord Walton paused for effect before beginning his final speech, casting a quick bow to the royal party behind him.

“My Lord King, Queen Guinevere, Lords, Ladies, Knights and citizens of Camelot, I do not intend to harangue you but will keep my summing up brief. We have heard many reasons why magic should remain outlawed, but given the happenings of the last week or so, I think we have proved that magic is not evil and can and should be used for the good of all. Furthermore, we will not be throwing the gates of the kingdom open to all magic; those who wield magic to harm will still be brought to justice. We believe that people like Lord Emrys and his supporters can guard against malevolent sorcerers as much as anyone of us can protect good people from bad. Therefore, I ask you to let magic return to the realm of Albion and place our faith in King Arthur, his warlock and his knights. Thank you for your patience.”

Again there was another bout of clapping, this one somewhat louder than before and, with a final bow, Lord Cedric stepped back to his place beside the thrones, handing over the rostrum to Sir Geoffrey once more. 

The King and his close friends had discussed who would announce the opening of the vote, and indeed had argued what method would be best. A show of hands had been ruled out, since there might be some unscrupulous voters who would raise their hands twice. Then too, they couldn't use the written word, as many of the commoners, and indeed some of the lesser lords and knights couldn't read nor write.

After much discussion it was decided that those registered to vote would be requested to file up in the quadrangle. As they passed up the stairs and into the grand hall, their names would be struck off the list by trusted assessors; they would be given a token which they would then deposit in two noticeably stamped barrels, one blue for the yes vote and one yellow for the no. It was thought that, since the numbers were great, there might be a need for more vats, but they could be changed if needed, and the filled ones would be sealed and locked. When the voting was finished, they would all be counted. The whole process would be supervised by The King's men, but also scrutineers from each side of the debate.

Geoffrey of Monmouth explained the process of voting and counting to those gathered in the hall and outside before introducing his king.

Arthur stood to address his people and immediate silence descended, awaiting his words.

“Many years ago, a wise man told me of the rich variety of people contained within this kingdom and how they tried to protect me and Camelot. I didn't understand then. I had to learn the hard way, but now I am aware, I will judge no man... nor woman by who he or she is. From this day forth, people will be judged only on their actions and that I hereby vow, no matter which way the ballot falls.” 

He heard Avebury draw in his breath in dissent, but he paid him no heed. Instead he continued quickly, forestalling any interruption. “The voting opens one hour after noon. It will take time, so I ask for your patience. If any of you are still unclear on what to do, my councillors and knights will be happy to assist you, but please, this is your vote. Do not be swayed by others; act only out of the conviction of your hearts. Anyone caught trying to persuade others to change their mind will be cast into the cells for the duration of the vote.”

Looking around the hall, The King saw his people hanging on his every word. A warm smile dawned on his face. He did so love Camelot and all who dwelt therein. “Before you leave to do your duty, may I tell each and every one of you how proud I am to be your leader.” A lump formed in his throat and his eyes glistened wetly. “You have all my faith and trust. For the love of Camelot, I thank you.”

A chorus of raised voices came back to him like an echo magnified ten hundred fold. “For the love of Camelot!” As the words faded they were followed by cheering and clapping while the royal party made their way from the hall.

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy Wednesday's post. Although the debate is drawing to a close, this story has a little further to run and I hope readers will stick with me till the end.
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts, if you have time. I'd love to hear from you.


	30. The Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilli returns on time with worrying news and the result of the vote is finally in.
> 
> Meanwhile, Kay has a request for King Arthur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm a little late in posting tonight, but it is still Sunday.
> 
> Enjoy and add a comment if you feel inclined.

Chapter Thirty

The Calm Before The Storm

The hours of the afternoon and evening dragged by slowly... sombrely, as did the snake-like queues of voters crammed into the castle courtyard and winding up the stairs to the great hall to place their vote.

At first, Arthur and his entourage had spent time amongst those waiting, had even visited the people of the town, but gradually they had made their way back to the haven of the royal apartments. There a meal was served to them around the dinner hour, yet hardly any of the party had much of an appetite.

“Gwaine would have wolfed this down,” Merlin said reflectively, trying to lighten the mood. “No matter what danger we faced, he always loved to eat.”

“I miss him too, Merlin. We all do,” Arthur replied sincerely, interrupting his pacing to rest a hand on his friend's shoulder. “We could certainly do with some of his humour now.” He dropped into his seat and laid his head back. His skin was sallow and Merlin noticed there were beads of moisture on his forehead.

“Arthur, are you feeling well?” he asked, quickly waving Gaius over as The King's eyelids drooped, reminding Merlin of one of the most scary moments of his life when it seemed Arthur's eyes might close forever.

The old physician pushed himself off the chest at the end of the bed and moved stiffly to his king.

“Gaius, are you feeling ill too?” Merlin's voice had an edge of apprehension about it. After all, his guardian was an old man and these were trying times.

“No, my boy. I'm just tired,” Gaius reassured his erstwhile protégé, who had long since outgrown his tutelage. “It's just been a very long day. In fact, each day has been very long since Camlann.”

“Tell me about it!” Arthur commented, without opening his eyes. Though he sounded weary there was the hint of a chuckle in his tone.

Moving over the floor silently, Gwen had gone to fetch Arthur's medicine. “Here, Arthur. It's time to take your potion.”

“Yes... and I'd give him an extra dose of the other to sustain his energy,” Merlin suggested, his eyes incandescent as he whispered another spell, retrieving a vial from the side table.

“Thanks, Merlin.” Arthur took the small bottle from Guinevere's hands and knocked it back before holding out his hand for the next remedy. “I think you take pleasure in torturing me.”

Merlin's smile beamed. “Too true! And you'd better get used to it because I have ten years of insults to avenge.”

Finishing off the second dose, Arthur swiped his hand across his lips. “You know, some might call that treason!” He pointed his index finger in his warlock's chest, but he also grinned. “However, compared to Avebury, I think I can overlook your transgressions. Yet be careful. Who knows when my patience might run out,” he said airily. “I believe the stocks haven't been used for a fair amount of time.”

“Arthur!” Guinevere admonished. “Would you two stop acting like a couple of children.”

Gaius, now seated at the table by Arthur's side, offered a faint smile. “Don't scold them, Your Highness. They're only letting off steam. Allow me, Sire?” He placed his hand on his sovereign's brow. “You do seem to have a slight temperature, Arthur. Nothing serious,” he reassured. “Probably just stress.”

“He's going to be stressed out a lot more once he rides out to join the army!” For once, Guinevere couldn't restrain a hint of anxious anger. 

“Guinevere!” Arthur warned gently. “Let's take one problem at a time. The result of the vote is worrying enough for now.”

“Might I say, Sire, that I don't think you need to be anxious.” Gaius attempted to cast oil on troubled waters. “Not if your reception at the end of the debate is anything to go by... nor by the way you were received in the city. Your people love you.”

“And Merlin,” Arthur added, smiling at the treatment his friend enjoyed now that his position was recognised. The idiot had probably been helping people on the quiet ever since he'd come to Camelot, and risking Uther's wrath in doing so. How Merlin had managed to keep his head was a mystery and modesty prevented him from admitting that he might have been instrumental in ensuring his servant's safety over the years. Though there was no doubt Merlin had returned that favour countless times over. “I'm beginning to suspect a lot of people are in your debt.”

“Nah! I'm just a very likeable fellow,” Merlin teased, happy for the opportunity to lift the spirits of his friends. 

“It amazes me how easily pleased some people can be!” Arthur laughed, deciding to go along with Merlin's lighter mood.

But their jocularity was short lived when there was a rap on the door announcing the entrance of a guard.

“Sire, there is a man here who wishes to speak to you and Lord Merlin on a subject of great urgency, he says.” The soldier snapped to attention awaiting instructions.

In a split second, Arthur changed from fool to commander. “Who is this man? Does he have a name?”

The guard held his stance, but it was clear he was discomfited. “Sir King, he was here a few nights since and he says his name is Gilli!”

“Gilli has returned?” Merlin exchanged a troubled glance with Arthur.

“Bring him in,” Arthur commanded. “And, Rys, Gilli is a friend, but thank you for your caution. In these uncertain times it is wise to be vigilant.”

Within seconds, a very crumpled and harassed Gilli entered the royal chambers almost reeling with fatigue. Merlin caught his arm as he made to bow before The King.

“Forget the bow, Gilli,” Arthur said, moving quickly to take Gilli's other arm. Between Arthur and Merlin, he was helped to a seat while Gaius poured a tankard of water, placing it on the table in front of the exhausted sorcerer. “Drink first and talk later,” Arthur finished, suppressing his impatience. Clearly, Gilli had travelled far and fast.

Greedily, Gilli drank down the water, blotting his mouth with his sleeve and breathing heavily. “Thank you, Sire.” He took a second gulp. “I've come straight from Helva.”

“Helva? Yeah gods! You must be more tired than I first suspected,” Arthur pulled out a chair and sat down next to his new subject. “That's quite a distance to cover in a couple of days.”

“What were you doing in Helva, Gilli?” Merlin asked, solicitude spilling out of every pore.

“Following Daman. He went to Helva to hire an assassin. Didn't William tell you?” Gilli said, his tone rising anxiously. In truth, he'd no idea whether William had made it back to the castle safely. Avebury could've intercepted him. “He did reach you, didn't he?”

Merlin laid a soothing hand on Gilli's shoulder. “Yes! He did... and he explained what you'd overheard.” 

“He also told us you were tracking Avebury's man,” Arthur added, his forearm resting along the table edge while he resisted the urge to drum his fingers. 

“Which is why I ended up in Helva. Daman was instructed to hire a killer who was also a sorcerer and Helva is the perfect place for that,” Gilli explained, continuing rather self-consciously. “Especially ones who have a grudge against the Pendragons... excuse me, Sire. I mean no offence.” 

“And none taken,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes. “It's probably what I'd have done myself. Did Daman succeed?”

“He did.” Gilli worried his bottom lip as he looked slightly askance at The King. He wasn't exactly at ease addressing royalty any more than was William. 

“Gilli, tell us,” Merlin prompted with an encouraging smile. “I promise Arthur won't shoot the messenger. Do you know who?”

“I do!” The young sorcerer, who was the focus of every gaze in the room, squirmed a little before straightening his back to reply. “The killer is a man called Alvarr. A sorcerer with a fierce reputation.”

“We know him. Arthur, do you remember?” Merlin asked, dismayed that Arthur's life was again at risk, but thankful they now knew who to look out for. “In your father's day, he led a band of Druid rebels.”

“Indeed!” Arthur mused, his mind drifting back through the years. “He had the audacity to break into Camelot's vaults to steal the Crystal of Neathid, but we caught up with him and his gang later. He was sentenced to die, but someone helped him escape from our dungeons.” Arthur's mobile mouth turned down at the corners. “No prizes now for guessing who that was... Morgana!”

“If it's any consolation, Sire, neither Merlin nor I believe she'd turned completely against you at that point,” Gaius inferred mildly. “She was confused about her magic... and scared of what might happen to her if Uther found out. Alvarr turned her head...”

“I understand, Gaius. But I still can't conceive why she didn't come to me.” Arthur's brows knit together in a frown as confusion drove him to his feet. “I might not have approved, but I would never have let anything bad happen to her. I don't think my father would have either... yet I'd hardly bet my life on that. When it came to sorcery he was fixated and totally ruthless. But would he have executed his own daughter?”

At the stark question, the atmosphere in the chamber filled with dread speculation, till Arthur bestirred himself again, changing the painful subject. “Gilli, you must be exhausted. We thank you for your efforts, but you need to rest now. Your job is done.”

“Sire, please, I would still like to help.” Gilli stood and placed himself in front of his chosen sovereign. “Alvarr must be close behind me and you need people you can trust... and, if I may say, magic is best fought with magic. Perhaps a change of clothing and something to eat and I can be back on duty, helping to protect you.”

Again Arthur's winning smile dawned slowly on his face. “Thank you, Gilli. I've heard that maxim before. Go now and see to your own needs. When you're ready to serve, Merlin and I will be grateful for your help.”

The company watched Gilli leave while a feeling of strain settled upon each of them, but it was Gwen who first voiced her thoughts. “Will we ever be free of enemies seeking to kill Arthur?” Her voice cracked with emotion. “Arthur is the best, the most caring king Camelot has ever had. Why can't people see that?”

“Peace, Guinevere!” Arthur wrapped his arms protectively around his wife, though he couldn't help but peruse the same questions.

“Most people do, Gwen,” Merlin said, his voice strong with a mixture of sympathy and conviction. “It's just that a few of them covet Arthur's position and power.”

A harsh bark of laughter escaped Arthur's throat and Gwen felt it resonating against her cheek. “Hah! Right at this moment I'd say they're welcome to it.” He quickly dropped a kiss on his wife's upturned face. “That farm is looking good to me.” Once upon a time he had day-dreamed with Gwen about leaving Camelot and his responsibilities. “What say you, my sweet, would you like to be a farmer's wife? Of course, Merlin will have to come along, since I'm not totally fit I'll need a hand with the heavy work.”

“No change there then!” Merlin quipped, releasing the tension that was in all their hearts and everyone laughed whole-heartedly. Yet Merlin's smile diminished quickly. “Speaking of Morgana, Arthur... have you decided what to do with her?”

At once, the room was plunged back into gloom, as if the very hint of Morgana's twisted, haunted soul had stolen their light.

“No!” Arthur admitted with a grimace. “I haven't had time to give it much thought. If I'm honest, I haven't wanted to think about it, but I know I have to decide.” He finished on a groan which seemed wrenched from the pit of his stomach. “She might want to kill me, but I can't forget that she was once my sister... and friend. Mind you, if we believe her, she no longer seeks my death.”

“Can we trust that she's telling the truth?” Gaius voiced the thought in everyone's mind. “And even if she is, will she always remain benign?”

Arthur shrugged, turning towards Merlin. “You're the one with the crystals. What do you think?”

“I'm no more certain of that than you, though I doubt she is deceitful at present,” Merlin said, staring directly at his king. “I'm sorry. It's not the advice you want, but I have nothing else to offer, except to say her magic is still fettered by Iseldir's and my own enchantments.”

“If I chose to banish her, would these bonds remain in place from a distance?”

“Morgana had powerful magic,” Merlin replied slowly, choosing his words carefully. “She was the last of the High Priestesses. I have no idea if we could control her forever, especially if you sent her away.”

Arthur walked to the hearth where a fire burned sluggishly, now down to its last embers. Bending slowly, his efforts like those of a tired old man, he lifted a log and threw it on the flames, listening to it hiss and crackle as it caught alight. Tiny sparks ascended the chimney and were lost in its murk. After a moment, he dropped into his chair. “Gaius, can you offer us more enlightenment about Morgana?”

“I'm afraid not, Sire. High Priestesses are the ultimate power source of the Old Religion... Morgause taught her well and Morgana was a very apt pupil. Besides, it is possible that in Morgause's passing, she transferred some of her own power to her sister.”

“Yet you still maintain that Merlin is the most powerful warlock who has ever lived?” Arthur asked, seeking all the information he would need before making his decision on his sister's future.

“Indeed! But I believe there is one important difference,” Gaius continued almost as if thinking aloud. “Merlin is the light to Morgana's darkness, which makes him less ruthless. Merlin seeks to build where Morgana seeks only to destroy.”

“Not always, Gaius. He destroyed a mighty number of Saxons at Camlann,” Arthur said with the smallest hint of a rueful smile. “And I was there when he killed Morgana... Well, thought he killed Morgana.”

“I didn't want to Arthur,” Merlin cut in quickly. “If there had been any other way...”

“You would have taken it,” Arthur finished Merlin's sentence. “I know that. Do you think I don't realise you're only remorseless when you're protecting your friends? But all that means, if Morgana reverts to type, you and Iseldir might not be able to prevent her from reeking more havoc.”

The old physician cleared his throat, saying with regret, “I'm afraid you've stated the case realistically, my lord.”

Suddenly, Arthur shot up straight in his chair and turned to face the others. “Wait a minute! Merlin, you told me you were robbed of your magic totally before Camlann. How did that happen, and can't we use that method?”

“I was attacked by a giant slug called the gean canach which devours the magic of others.” Merlin shivered as he recounted his tale, reliving the horrors of that night: the suffocating wetness of the creature as it sucked his magic from him, leaving him drained and hollow of everything which made him who he was. He shook himself free of the memory. “But using it is not an option. Gaius killed the creature and I have no idea where to find another, or if there even is another. Besides, I wouldn't subject my worst enemy to such a horrible experience.”

“It's a pity Morgana didn't share your morals,” Gaius said between ground teeth.

“So, taking all that into consideration, I can hardly banish her to become a thorn in the side of another realm,” Arthur announced bleakly, massaging his right shoulder which had stiffened up during the day. He needed to find some way to train safely, otherwise he would become like a bent and arthritic old man.

Gwen came forward, asking reluctantly, “Will you order her execution then?”

“No, never!” Once more The King settled in his chair, his eyes closing for a second or two. When he opened them again, they were tinged with a strange mixture of pity and determination. “Perhaps some rulers would think she deserved the ultimate punishment, but I cannot bring myself to order her death. So, for the time being, I'd rather keep her under close watch. I know it means more work for you, Merlin, but I can't think of another answer for now.”

“Don't worry, Arthur. I'm happy to do your bidding...”

Another loud knock shook the doors, interrupting Merlin's thoughts on Morgana's fate. Arthur and Merlin exchanged apprehensive looks. This could be it, the answer to their aspirations... their hopes for a new and united Albion. Merlin smiled and Arthur gave a decisive nod of his head. Prevarication was not an option.

Clearing his throat, The King pushed himself to his feet as he cried, “Enter!”

The doors opened to reveal Geoffrey of Monmouth with Lord and Lady Walton hard on his heels. All three were laughing.

“Your Highness, we come bringing momentous news. The votes have been counted and you and my lord Emrys have won a victory.” Geoffrey of Monmouth drew himself erect and declared in dramatic tones, “Magic is no longer outlawed in your realm, Sire.”

For a heartbeat, the silence was so complete a pin could be heard had it dropped in the chamber, then Arthur uttered a great whoop, while Merlin started laughing. The two friends met in the middle of the room and without hesitation they hugged, slapping each other's backs and chortling like crazy children, such was the relief they felt. 

“Merlin, we won!” Arthur said on a laugh which combined amazement and happiness all at once. “You are now legally welcome in Camelot. No more hiding in the shadows.”

The King held Merlin at arm's length watching a myriad of emotions cross Merlin's expressive face... relief and joy but underneath something akin to fear, as if he expected Geoffrey of Monmouth to suddenly change his statement. 

Seeing Merlin's throat working to form words, but being for the moment struck dumb, Arthur asked the question he was sure was on the tip of Merlin's tongue. “And there is no doubt of the result? Avebury hasn't asked for a recount or anything such?”

Lord Cedric took up the telling. “Definitely not! There would be no point... the vote wasn't close. Sire, almost two-thirds of your kingdom voted to bring magic back to Camelot.”

Both Arthur and Merlin were speechless and once again they fell to expressing their feelings by clapping each other on the arms and shoulders. Arthur even forbore to punch Merlin's arm. In the background Gwen and Gaius smiled tearfully at each other but didn't seek to interrupt the two men's celebrations. There would be plenty of time to join in.

“Sire, I hope you forgive my temerity but, when I heard the result of the vote, I immediately set the order for the festivities to commence,” Geoffrey said with a fair amount of trepidation. “I hope I didn't do wrong.”

Finally, Arthur broke away to address his worried seneschal. “Of course not, Lord Geoffrey. This is a time for rejoicing... but perhaps a time for humility too,” Arthur said as his expression changed. He sent Guinevere a gentle smile, full of memories, while penitence settled like a heavy cloak over his bearing. “I fear I have not only to announce the result, but I must also apologise for the fact that it has taken me far too long to recognise magic is only as good or bad as the one who uses it. For too many years, I followed my father's orders with little thought, and even when I ascended the throne, I held to his decrees.” Arthur's head and shoulders drooped, his sad eyes glazing over. “I'm not sure I deserve a second chance at life. Perhaps The Triple Goddess only spared me to see magic returned to the realm and Alvarr is her final instrument to take me to the spirit world.”

At once Gwen moved, hurrying to her husband's side. “No, Arthur. Never think it!” She pulled him into her embrace, her voice muffled against his chest, yet everyone in the room heard her pain. “Surely The Triple Goddess could not be so cruel, to spare you to me only to snatch you away again.”

“Ah, Guinevere,” Arthur replied reflectively, “I doubt The Triple Goddess thinks so highly of me as you do. The Disir gave me a chance and I threw it back in their faces.”

“You can't take sole responsibility for that decision, Arthur,” Merlin put in quickly, his skin pale and his eyes shadowed. “You asked me for advice and I said there was no place for magic in Camelot...”

“Why, Merlin?” The shocked question came from Guinevere, who had never heard this part of their story. “Wasn't that the perfect opportunity to have what you wanted?”

“Because, my dear,” Arthur explained gradually, beginning to comprehend, “if I'd agreed to The Disir's condition, Mordred's life would have been saved, and Merlin had already been shown a vision of Camlann where Mordred struck me down. As always, Merlin was attempting to protect me.”

“Much good it did!” Merlin declared. “They saved Mordred regardless. No matter what decision I made, it seemed your fate was inevitable. If only I'd known...”

“If ifs and ands were pots and pans, beggars would ride!” Geoffrey of Monmouth intoned, silencing all in the chamber. “It seems to me that many of us made mistakes in the past. Perhaps if I'd spoken up against Uther in the beginning, we would not be at this pass...”

“More likely you'd have ended on the pyre, Geoffrey,” Gaius said with conviction. “I too have much to answer for. I was wrong to hide the truth from Morgana...”

“There is much we each have to regret, but regrets do not build a new and better future.” The quiet voice of Lady Amena carried, strangely, throughout the room. “It is easy to be wise with hindsight.” She walked toward her king, regarding him with sympathetic understanding. “Arthur, if you feel you must make your apologies, then I believe they would be received with a modicum of approval if not with unbounded enthusiasm. It is your future deeds which will change magic-users' perceptions of your reign.”

“I hope you may be right, Lady Amena,” Arthur answered. “I promise not to repeat my mistakes... if I am granted the chance.” 

“I pray that you are, Arthur,” Guinevere leant into her husband's side. “I could not bear to lose you again.” And Arthur had no doubt she was referring to the coming campaign.

“I hope not to leave you again, Guinevere, but I'm no longer foolish enough to make promises I cannot always keep,” he said, holding her close, while he addressed the others. “I thank you for announcing the celebrations and I would ask a further favour of you that you should begin them for me. I believe the occasion demands our showing up in all our regalia and that might take some time to arrange. We will attend as soon possible.”

 

*****

No sooner had Gaius and Geoffrey of Monmouth's party left when another came calling. This time it was Sir Kay and the Druid, Iseldir, who entered, which seemed to Arthur and Merlin a slightly surprising pairing, but the reason, when Kay finally spoke, was even more bizarre.

With an uneasy glance around the room, Kay at last approached The King. “Sire, I would like to ask that Lady Morgana be given permission to attend tonight's festivities to hear for herself your announcement that magic is now freed throughout the land.”

“Morgana?”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Kay's weight shifted from foot to foot with unaccustomed anxiety.

“And suddenly I'm 'Your Highness'? You're unusually formal tonight, Kay,” Arthur said, evasively, while he attempted to straighten out how he felt about Kay's request.

Kay shrugged. “I thought it best, given the reason for my visit... but Morgana grows weary of her prison.” He took a step closer to his king, the man who had been his boyhood friend but who had learned to look as stern and courtly as Uther ever did when the occasion arose.

“You'll admit it is an unexpected appeal. I did not know you had become so... concerned with Morgana's state of mind.” To tell the truth, Arthur felt a little guilty. He'd been so involved with other business, he hadn't spent much time with his newest knight.

“Sire, you did ask me to keep an eye on Morgana,” Kay bowed from the waist. “And I'm sorry if I over-stepped my orders, but I've had no personal experience with this evil High Priestess you talk of. To me, Morgana seems very much like the girl I used to know when we were children here in Camelot.”

“That may be so, Kay, but Morgana is culpable of a number of crimes, whether you find it believable or not,” Arthur stated with a hint of annoyance... and yet, given his new frame of mind, he accepted his father and even he must carry some responsibility for Morgana's descent into dark sorcery. “I'm sorry, but I'm not sure allowing Morgana some freedom is a good idea.”

“King Arthur, if I might speak?” Iseldir came forward and when Arthur nodded, he continued, “I too have been keeping a close eye on the lady in question and, even with all my experience, I can find no artifice in her. Plus, my wards and Merlin's are still in place. I don't think Lady Morgana would or could do any harm were she escorted from her cell for a short time.”

The King's lips pursed as he reviewed his options, but before he made his decision he turned to his new advisor. “Merlin?”

Merlin's head cocked to one side in contemplation, but he answered quickly. “I tend to agree with Iseldir, and it would be a chance to see how she behaved in public.” 

“There is that,” Arthur said thoughtfully, but his frown remained.

“And it might prove to her once and for all that you have changed your opinion on magic,” Merlin added. “She'd realise, if she were to regain her memories, that she would no longer be persecuted for her gifts...”

“As long as she used those gifts for good!” Arthur folded his arms, while he glanced over at his wife, who offered him a smile which conveyed all her love and trust. “But what about her past crimes, surely they have to be taken into consideration? We can't just forget about then entirely.”

“Perhaps not, but you've already chosen not to execute her,” Merlin reminded Arthur of their previous conversation. “Besides, we're only talking of letting her out for one night. If you're going to keep her under guard, isn't it best to make her incarceration as pleasant as possible for everyone concerned. I know you, Arthur, you couldn't treat her cruelly.”

Gwen walked to Arthur's side and slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. “Merlin's right. You're not vindictive.”

“Some Druids wouldn't agree with you, Guinevere.” Arthur squeezed Gwen's hand, while his troubled gaze studied the ground at his feet. Now that the elation of winning was receding, he understood there was work still to be done. “We might have voted to legalise magic, but I'm afraid not everyone outside Camelot will be convinced, or so forgiving of the past.”

“Sire, perhaps granting Lady Morgana some freedom might go some way to reassuring those very people who doubt you,” Iseldir advised, his voice tinged with calm authority. “Druids are a peaceful people, but there were some who chose to take up the sword against you and ally themselves with Morgana. They sought revenge and, though I cannot condone their methods, I can understand their motives. Do you still intend to punish them for past transgressions, or will you seek a truce?” 

“Iseldir, I've no wish to carry on fighting your people,” Arthur declared, his blue-eyed stare clear and steadfast as he focused on the Druid leader. “If you could take that message to them and persuade them I seek only peace, I will be forever in your debt.”

“Then as a goodwill gesture, give Morgana the freedom of Camelot tonight. I will assist Sir Kay in ensuring her good behaviour.”

Arthur glanced at the others in the room, his eyes finally alighting on his friend. “Merlin?” he asked again.

“I think Iseldir has a point... and I cannot see the harm.”

“Then your wish is granted, Kay.” Arthur's smile was slightly awry, yet he did smile.

“Thank you, Sire.” Kay's sunny expression returned with a slight bow of his head. “You won't regret this. I'll make sure of that.” He turned and hurried from the room, giving Arthur no opportunity to change his mind.

“I too thank you, Arthur Pendragon,” Iseldir said, yet without Kay's excitement. “I believe you've made the right choice, and as to the other matter, I will gladly be your envoy to bring peace amongst all the Druid clans.” Then Isledir too was gone, leaving the Arthur alone with Merlin and Gwen.

“Let's hope they're both right,” Arthur said with a rueful laugh. “Though according to Gilli, Morgana isn't the problem tonight!”

“Don't worry about that, Arthur,” Merlin assured him. “Gilli and I have got that covered. Alvarr won't get within striking distance of you.”

“That's a comfort, Merlin, though perhaps Alvarr is fairly handy with a bow and arrow!”

At her husband's words, Guinevere turned pale and her mouth dropped open as she tightened her grip on Arthur. “Perhaps you shouldn't attend these celebrations. At least, not until they've found Alvarr.”

“Guinevere, I have to.” Arthur patted her grasping hand tenderly. “I was the one who persisted on following my father's decrees. I have to be the one who declares them null and void.”

“Don't worry, Guinevere. I have magic and now I can use it openly. I can deflect an arrow before it ever reaches Arthur. I'll be right by his side, protecting him, as always,” Merlin promised, his twinkling grin spreading across his face. “The only thing you have to worry about, Guinevere, is getting dressed for the festivities. You don't have much time.”

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Annie for continuing to leave a comment. I hope some other readers are enjoying this story too.


	31. Sorcery and Sacrfice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magic is restored to the realm of Camelot and the festivities commence. Unfortunately, they are short lived as a sorcerer takes his revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very sorry this is a day late, though, technically, I think it is still Wednesday in some parts of the world.
> 
> I'm sorry but I developed a very bad headache last night and went to bed early. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and once again I'd like to thank Annie for leaving comments and to those who have left kudos for my story. I do hope there are others out there who are continuing to read my story. 
> 
> I don't own Merlin, but borrow the characters for the pleasure of writing and keeping them alive in my own mind.

Chapter Thirty-one

Sorcery and Sacrifice

Alvarr, in his guise as Daman, found his way to Lord Avebury by the simple expedient of asking one of Camelot's castle guards where he might be found and the meeting between the two men had gone fairly smoothly. As Alvarr had surmised, Lord Avebury was a puffed up nobleman who treated his man much like a common servant. As long as Alvarr remained subservient, he doubted Avebury would ever suspect Daman was not quite who he seemed, at least, in the short term. 

The noble had been annoyed at hearing he'd lost the vote on magic but not overly perturbed, proving to Alvarr that his objections to sorcery had been but a distraction and that Avebury's main aim was to assassinate The Pendragon. Alvarr didn't particularly mind what were Avebury's motives because the end goal matched his own. However, by the time he'd spent even that short time being ordered around by Avebury, he'd decided to take his life too... after killing Arthur, of course. 

As night fell and Alvarr followed Lord of Avebury out onto the citadel's steps to witness the celebrations, he was amazed at the size of the crowds. He'd never dreamt that the legalising of magic would be so popular and, had he known, he would have raised a rebellion amongst the common people to bring magic back all the sooner.

What Alvarr failed to realise was the fact that people were backing a much loved and respected monarch and his equally popular servant, who was now promoted to personal advisor and warlock. Had he listened at all, he would have heard the names Arthur and Merlin shouted by thousands of voices.

“Stay close to me,” Avebury hissed his order. “And when you spot your hired killer, point him out. I'll distract Arthur by introducing you to The King so the assassin can get close enough to carry out the deed.”

The two conspirators had already worked out a plan, though Avebury had no idea just how close the killer was. 

“Don't worry, my lord.” The title almost stuck in Alvarr's throat, but he dipped his head and gritted his teeth. “I know the plan, as does the man I've hired.”

“You've spoken with him?” Avebury asked, sounding surprised.

“No! It isn't necessary. I've already told him to get as close as possible to the royal party and wait till I signal him.”

“The signal has been pre-arranged?” Avebury's brow wrinkled in disapproval.

“Sire, you don't have to worry. Everything is in hand. My man is much experienced in this kind of work. Arthur is as good as dead!”

 

*****

 

When Arthur, Guinevere and Merlin finally stepped through the great doors above the steps of the citadel the roar of greeting almost overcame all three. If it were at all possible, the throng in the quadrangle was greater than before. People had climbed onto the cloister walls, perched on statues or any other available surface which would support their weight and afford them a better view.

The walkway outside the great hall, which was Uther's preferred stance when addressing his people, or witnessing an execution, was now filled with many of the visiting nobles and castle staff. Even a number of citizens had managed to clamber their way up to hang precariously from the balustrade.

For a few moments, Arthur felt overwhelmed and wished that he too had chosen to follow Uther's example, but he'd always felt more at home closer to his people than towering over them. Besides, he associated the balcony with the death of many sorcerers, so standing there would be totally inappropriate for these festivities.

He allowed the cheering to continue for some minutes, only ushering Merlin forward to accept the kudos which he so vastly deserved. Tonight, Arthur was prepared to remain in the background... after he'd formally announced magic's return to Albion and expressed, in public, his deep regret for all the crimes carried out in his father's name and his own misdeeds, though in a much lesser degree, against generations of these magic users.

After long moments, Arthur stepped up to Merlin's side and raised his arms, silencing the large audience. He glanced around the packed courtyard, unable to resist the urge to search for the figure of his would-be killer, but all he saw were happy grinning faces staring back at him, waiting patiently for him to speak.

He pushed a thread of apprehension aside, placing his trust in Merlin and Gilli, whom he'd noticed clinging to the pedestal on the statue at the foot of the stairway. Surely, with two warlocks to protect him, and one the most powerful ever, he was bound to be safe. It was strange, but Arthur realised he'd never been afraid of death before, yet his experience of dying and leaving all those he loved behind had taught him that life was precious and should be held onto with every fibre of one's being.

“Arthur?”

He heard Merlin's whispered, anxious question and shook himself from his reverie, becoming aware that his people were growing restive. Clearing his throat, he descended a couple of steps, putting himself alone before the throng.

“My friends and countrymen, I come to you tonight to announce the result of the ballot on magic, though judging by the laughing faces I see before me, I think you already know. However, as King of Camelot and Albion, it falls to me to make the formal declaration.”

He stilled his breathing for a second and the silence was such he believed that the people held their collective breath.

“Magic is no longer outlawed in my realm,” he announced regally, his voice carrying to every nook and corner of the square. “Those magic users who obey the laymen's laws of Camelot will no longer be brought to trial, imprisoned or executed. They are free to practise their craft. They are as free as every other member of this land.”

Had the earlier cheering been loud, now it seemed the noise would raise the very roofs of the citadel. 

“Wait! Please!” Arthur's voice rang out again. “There is something else I would like to say before the festivities continue. I ask that you give my words serious consideration.” He stood, still as a statue, until silence once again reigned. “During the years of my father's rule many innocent sorcerers were killed. Even those who gave them succour, often without any knowledge to whom they opened their homes, were brought here to this square and executed. In my own reign, sorcery was still prohibited. There is nothing I can say or do to change those injustices, but I am sorry... from the bottom of my heart. I can promise that no one will suffer such unjustified oppression in the future... and if there are any who are in need because of the offences of King Uther or myself, I offer reparation. Camelot's coffers will be opened to help all those who suffer because they lost loved ones to the unfair laws on sorcery.”

That brought everyone to a halt, noble and commoners both. None of Arthur's counsellors had known his intentions, though Merlin and Gwen had been aware he intended to apologise for past discretions. A long silence held the masses frozen, till one voice from the depths of the crowd called out.

“May the gods bless King Arthur and Queen Guinevere and Lord Emrys for their change of heart and their promises for the future!”

Those words released a floodgate of goodwill. People applauded and shouted, others danced and sang and some hugged each other, knowing they need no longer live in fear.

Arthur was particularly relieved his apology had been accepted so gladly. Indeed the royal party were thoroughly pleased at the reception, however there was a certain concern that amongst all the excitement a certain killer could easily hide his tracks. 

Merlin cast his magic net outwards, encompassing the crowds, seeking the face he remembered well, the blunt countenance of Alvarr, while also sensing for the particular aura which surrounded most sorcerers. Yet the former was confusing, as it seemed a number of magicians had taken advantage of the new rules and were enjoying their emancipation.

He looked up to see that Gilli was also straining his senses into the masses. They could not fail Arthur tonight, yet desperation was beginning to seep into both their psyches as their search brought no results. Perhaps Arthur was right and Alvarr was attempting to kill Arthur from afar. Both Merlin and Gilli, simultaneously, looked towards the far edges of the courtyard and up to the roofs and turrets of the citadel, but could still find no sign of Alvarr.

 

*****

 

Before The King and Queen and Merlin had joined the party, another small group had exited the castle, using one of the side doors. They had tried to mingle with the crowds, but in the good natured jostling, Morgana's hood had been pulled back and she was in danger of being recognised. Somehow, neither Kay nor Iseldir felt that the amnesty on sorcerers would include Morgana's crimes. Too many of these citizens of Albion had suffered at her hands.

With a deft move, Kay pulled Morgana's hood over her head and, taking her arm, tried to steer her towards the main stairway where many of the lords and ladies stood, making it a less boisterous and less congested viewpoint. Iseldir gently used his magic to ease their passage and, without anyone realising they'd been manoeuvred, the three reached their goal. They edged their way up the stairs until they were standing on the top platform very near to where Arthur and Guinevere had come to rest when exiting the castle.

“I shouldn't be here,” Morgana whispered in Kay's ear, looking somewhat hunted.

“Morgana, Arthur granted permission and you did say you wanted a respite from your cell.” Kay looked around him before leaning towards Morgana and replying, “I'll admit our position isn't the best, but we didn't have much choice. You were in danger of being recognised down there and those crowds are so excited and many of them have been drinking. It wouldn't take much to change their mood to anger.”

“You're assuming the crimes I'm accused of are true?” Morgana hissed, but stayed within the shelter of Kay's arms.

“This isn't the place to discuss this, but I can't believe all these witnesses were lying.”

From her other side, Iseldir spoke quietly so no one would overhear, his voice without censure. “I'm afraid there is no doubt you are guilty, Lady Morgana. I understand more than others that there were extenuating circumstances, but you rained mayhem on your brother's family, friends and peoples. Arthur has granted you clemency, something I know you would not have afforded him had he fallen into your clutches.”

The Lady Morgana, wrapped in her dark purple cloak, seemed to collapse against her knight errant, who did not fail her, but held her close as King Arthur began his speech.

At first, awed by the vast expanse of starlight sky hanging above the soaring towers of the citadel and cowed by the heaving mass of bodies just below her, Morgana didn't take in what Arthur had announced. However, at the mention of Uther's name the gist of what The King was saying hit her like a sledge hammer.

Magic was lawful! Sorcerers would no longer be prosecuted! Never again would innocent people be led into this very courtyard to meet their horrific end.

Yet that had been her task. It was she who was to free magic and return it to the realm. With a blinding flash of memory and damnable honesty, Morgana comprehended she wouldn't have been so impartial in her judgements. She would have demanded revenge.

Arthur was right. She had been as obsessed and tormented as Uther. She'd lashed out blindly and, in her hatred, excused her every dreadful act, killing anyone who stood in her way whether they had magic or not. How could she not have seen her error? 

A sharp ache flared within her heart as, with full comprehension of everything that had gone before, she finally accepted that Arthur was the true king... the right person to lead Albion into its Golden Age. 

Morgana lifted her head from the haven of Kay's stout shoulder and gazed at her brother, seeing him standing alone, a little way forward of his friends and knights. For the first time, she saw him not as an enemy, nor yet the arrogant youth with whom she had grown up, but as a strong king who had learned the true worth of mercy.

The Once and Future King!

The phrase popped unbidden into her brain. She had no idea from whence it came, but she smiled warmly, enjoying the sight of Arthur's people applauding him, his knights and nobles congratulating him on his victory.

Suddenly her view was blocked by a large man brushing roughly past her. She knew her memory was freshly returned and might not be complete, yet she was sure she didn't know this rude stranger who hardly noticed her in his haste to reach The King.

“Your Highness,” the richly dressed lord called, attracting Arthur's attention, though he didn't seem too pleased to be accosted by this fellow.

“Who is he?” she whispered in Kay's ear.

“Him? That's the Lord of Avebury,” Kay answered glumly. “I'm surprised he has the nerve to address Arthur. He's argued against him since the beginning of the debate and he hasn't been very complimentary either.”

Yet it seemed Kay might be wrong in his estimation since Avebury was continuing. “Sire King, I know I have led the anti-magic campaign, but even I can see that the majority of your subjects have chosen to follow your lead... and very willingly at that.” His hand swept grandly over the cheerful crowd. “I would not like you to think I am a poor loser. I accept the majority rule and congratulate you whole-heartedly on your victory.”

Arthur looked sceptical, yet he could not be seen to rebuff such a powerful lord publicly. He bent his crowned head in acknowledgement. “Thank you, Avebury. I did not think to find you so magnanimous. Forgive me for misjudging you.”

With her senses now free of blinkers, Morgana recognised Arthur's unease. Her brother didn't trust Lord Avebury. She searched Avebury's countenance and found she was in complete accord with Arthur. There was something suspect about this Lord of Camelot, but he was speaking again and she decided to eavesdrop. 

“King Arthur, now our differences are behind us, might I present to you my second-in-command. He has been outside the city, rallying more of my troops in case another band of Saxons assaulted your kingdom.”

Again, Arthur bowed his head in assent, yet Morgana was aware his reflexes were on high alert. “That showed much forethought, Avebury. I thank you and I would be pleased to meet your man.”

Avebury raised his hand and beckoned another man forward. As the knight, in full panoply, marched by her, dizziness overwhelmed Morgana and she gripped Kay's arm for support once more. She didn't understand why, but she knew danger threatened her brother.

Immediately, Morgana searched for Merlin, admitting at last that he was Arthur's best protection, but the warlock's attention appeared to be elsewhere. Her apprehension mounted and she found herself following the mysterious stranger.

“Morgana,” Kay cried hastily, knowing Arthur had said nothing about meeting Morgana. “Come back!”

“Keep up, Kay,” she ordered, every inch the haughty princess she had sometimes chosen to be during their childhood games. 

Although Morgana couldn't explain the feeling which sent a shiver down her spine, she was certain Lord Avebury and his knight were up to no good and since Merlin seemed otherwise engaged, perhaps Arthur would need her help. If that thought shocked her for an infinitesimal moment, it quickly disappeared, submerged by a flood of memories. Reminiscences of children bickering, but always making up; of teenagers testing their mettle by defying a strict father but always backing each other; of fighting together against perceived injustices to preserve honour.

She had even saved his life... as he had saved hers! Somewhere along the way she had forgotten...

But the Lord and his knight were bowing before The King and she quickened her step. Around the stockier man's neck there hung a chain and a clear crystal, which had been caught in the folds of his surcoat and almost hidden by his cloak, was visible, it seemed, to her eyes only. Her gaze was caught and held by the image she saw within the crystal.

She knew that face, frozen within the prism. Someone she had known from long ago... someone she had met recently too. At least, she thought so. Wild thoughts buffeted her mind as she tried to make sense of them.

Yet one thing was clear. One thing she was certain of... this man intended to harm Arthur, her brother.

“Arthur!” she screamed her warning, as she saw Alvarr... yet not Alvarr, draw a long, lethal blade from inside his cloak and she was throwing herself forward.

Morgana didn't feel the knife as it sank into her chest, almost didn't feel Kay's arms as they cushioned her fall. She was aware of the chain gripped in her hand as she dragged it from the would-be assassin's neck, slicing a wicked gash in her palm. She stared upwards at the shocked face of Alvarr as his true identity was revealed and saw him fall when Arthur, with all his old speed, drew Excalibur and plunged it into the sorcerer's cold heart.

“Morgana!” Arthur's equally horrified cry reached her through the fog which threatened to surround her, cutting her off from the circle of her family and friends. “Gaius, we need help here. Quickly!” The King took charge immediately, though his voice was hoarse with shock and sorrow. “Take her to Gaius' chambers. Hurry!” he thundered his order.

The momentarily frozen tableau around Arthur sprung into life. Other knights helped Kay to lift the slender body and bear it speedily within while Gaius hovered close by, taking hold of Morgana's pale hand which swung inertly at her side. 

“Gaius?” Arthur asked, his eyes beginning to well with tears. “She saved my life. She cannot die!”

“Sire, Morgana still lives, but I cannot say for how long until I have examined her. You must stay here and restore order...”

Yet Gaius' words were cut off by an angry shout. Seeing his plans crumble at his feet, Avebury drew his own dagger, throwing himself at The King.

He never reached his goal. Instead, he was flung back against the knight's statue. The last thing he heard in life was Merlin's roar as his head hit the solid stone plinth, snapping his neck. The crowd drew back, their mouths agape at the huddled heap of what remained of the Lord of Avebury.

Arthur's stunned glance met that of Merlin's, before they both scanned the tumultuous throng. Were there any other enemies within the citadel's courtyard? Yet as Gilli climbed down from his perch, a hush fell over the people. The terrible change in the night's proceedings seemed to have robbed the majority of speech, and definitely of their gay abandon. A pall of stupefied silence took the place of joyful laughter as little by little many of Camelot's citizens started to return to their homes.

“Thank you, Merlin,” Arthur said as his friend mounted the steps to his side. “I take it Avebury is dead?” But it was only a rhetorical enquiry, as The King could see Avebury's lifeless eyes staring at the dark heavens above. “I never suspected Avebury would be foolhardy... or brave enough to attack me. Once more you saved my life.” 

“As did Morgana!” And Merlin too had tears in his eloquent eyes, while his hands trembled like leaves caught in a storm. This he had not foreseen.

“I know,” Arthur gasped out as they clasped each other's forearms, sharing their strength. “I never dreamed she would...”

“Arthur?” The threadlike question came from Guinevere's trembling lips as she stood somewhat alone on the top edge of the steps. Arthur and Merlin at once turned towards her. “Arthur?” she repeated again, but in a whisper.

The Queen's knees buckled as Arthur reached for her, Merlin close behind him. Together they caught her as she slipped to the ground, horrified to see blood, barely discernible upon her dark ruby gown, but glistening in the glow of the flaming torches.

“Guinevere!” Both men cried in unison, but The Queen did not hear them.

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the middle of the week's chapter. I promise not to be late again and post on Sunday, unless anything totally unexpected happens.
> 
> I'd love to know your thoughts and comments.


	32. The Ladies of Camelot -- Guinevere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter we discover the extent of Morgana's injuries and how Guinevere came to be hurt.
> 
> This story is drawing to a close, but still has a little way to run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank those who have left comments and kudos. I do realise that my genre of story might be a little out of place on this archive for Merlin fanfiction, which makes me very grateful for those who have chosen to follow it. 
> 
> I don't own Merlin or the characters but borrow them because I love writing about them and taking their story forward.

Chapter Thirty-two

The Ladies of Camelot - Guinevere

Gaius and Isledir had installed Morgana in Merlin's old room, which the Druid Chief was occupying at present. However Iseldir felt confident he could find a bed elsewhere, if indeed he had time to sleep in the coming hours. There was much to do to save Lady Morgana's life.

Lingering in the doorway, Sir Kay watched anxiously as both physician and Druid worked on the woman he had grown fond of in the last few days, but going by Gaius' expression, he wasn't hopeful for Morgana's chances at life.

He knew she'd been stabbed. He'd seen the wicked knife penetrate her chest, yet the bleeding seemed minimal. Surely that was a good thing? But he was a warrior; he'd seen such wounds before... wounds which from the outside looked innocuous, but the victim had died. And the blade used on Morgana had been narrow and long. 

“How is she?” he asked, trepidation colouring his voice.

“We can't say and you're getting in the way,” Gaius huffed over his shoulder, his hands light yet probing as he checked the wound of his patient, whose breathing scarcely stirred the air around her. “Kay, you can do more for Morgana if you leave now. I'm sure Arthur will need you for something.”

There was a commotion at the outside door and a voice calling. “Gaius?”

As if by telekinesis The King had arrived.

Gaius rose shakily to his feet. Getting rid of Kay might not be troublesome, but Arthur was a different kettle of fish.

“Gaius, we need your help!” Arthur shouted, his tone tight with fear.

“Gaius, we really do,” Merlin reiterated and though he sounded calmer, there was definitely a warning in his words.

Iseldir looked up, placing his hand on the harassed older man. “Go see what they want. I'll take care of Morgana.”

With a nod of thanks, Gaius hurried to the outer room, talking as he went. “As I've said to Kay here, we can't tell you Morgana's chances...” The words dried up in his throat as he saw the burden which Arthur carried so tenderly. “Good grief! What has happened? Quickly, put her down here,” he said, hurrying to his bench and clearing it by decisively sweeping everything atop it to the floor.

“We don't really know, but she's bleeding.” Merlin answered with misgiving as Arthur laid Guinevere down, retaining his hold on her hand.

“Arthur...” But Gaius got no further.

“Gaius, don't ask me to leave... please. I can't.” In tune with his words, Arthur tightened his grasp on his wife's hand. “I won't!”

“I thought you and Merlin were riding out tonight,” Gaius said, hoping to invoke Arthur's sense of duty, but if any one person came before Arthur's love for his people it was Guinevere... and now there was a child's life at stake too.

“I can't leave without knowing how badly Guinevere is injured!”

Gaius gave a tired smile and relented. “Then stay by Gwen's head, Sire, where you won't be a hindrance. Merlin, help me cut away The Queen's gown so I can see where this blood is coming from.”

While Merlin and Gaius busied themselves, Arthur perched on a stool next to Gwen. His loving fingers gently traced her features and stroked her sweat damp hair, but he couldn't prevent his gaze from straying to where his two friends hovered over Gwen's injuries.

There came a quiet knocking on the door, and again a voice called out. “Sire, it's Gilli and William here. How is the Queen? We know what happened. William saw it all!”

That news caught Arthur's attention sufficiently and, with a last anxious glance at his wife, he marched to the door, opening it only a small way and standing in the crack, shielding Gwen from their gaze.

“You saw it?” he asked, stress sharpening his voice and countenance, which caused Will to shrink somehow.

“Yes, Sire... and I would have tried to help, but I couldn't get through the crowd in time. I'm sorry,” Will added, sounding more like the unsure farmer Arthur had met so many years ago.

“No. It's I who am sorry, Will.” Arthur schooled his face and voice to appear more sympathetic, though all his attention was focussed on Guinevere and their child. “This wasn't your fault. I'm just sick with worry. In your own time, tell me what you saw.”

William took a deep breath and thought carefully before replying. “It was the same man who stabbed Lady Morgana. After you struck him, he lurched sideways with the knife still in his hand. Queen Guinevere was coming to your aid and they stumbled into each other before he fell. I think he slashed out at her with his dying breath, cause I saw him later and he was surely dead.” William closed his eyes and clenched his hands together. “Sire, I did try to get up the stairs, but the crush was too strong. People couldn't move they were that shocked.”

The King laid his hand on William's shoulder. “Thank you, William. You did all that you could, and thank you for coming to tell us what you saw. I'm sure Gaius will find your information invaluable.” Trust his Guinevere to rush towards danger when trying to protect himself. His mind recoiled at the knowledge that because of his actions, though unintentional, his wife was hurt and now was lying on Gaius' work bench. Yet recognising the concern in the faces of the men before him, Arthur's instinctive compassion shone through. These friends had given their service both freely and completely. “Now I have to go, but thank you both for your help with... with everything. Please, don't leave Camelot before I can speak with you again.”

“Arthur?” The sound of Guinevere's tremulous voice reached him from behind the door. “Arthur? Where is Arthur?” Hysteria edged her soft tones.

“I really have to go,” Arthur said, bowing his head to these unlikely champions before closing the door quickly and almost running across the floor. “I'm here, Guinevere. I'm here.” He picked up her hand and held it to his lips.

“You're not hurt?” Gwen struggled to sit up, but Arthur gently held her down.

“Gwen, please,” Gaius said as he peeled back Gwen's underskirts to reveal a long gash in her thigh. “You must stay still. This is a nasty wound, but thankfully not a deep one. The bleeding makes it seem worse than it is.”

The King's stare had focussed on his wife's leg, his eyes narrowing and his skin blanching at the sight of the blood still running down her skin. 

“Arthur?” Gwen asked again, tightening her hold on his hands and shaking them to gain his attention. “Are you hurt?”

“Me?” Arthur's wide-eyed gaze came back to Gwen's face. “No, sweetheart. I'm fine. Truly. It's you who are injured. Gaius wants you to lie still.” 

“I do,” the physician agreed, using his magnifying glass to study the long laceration. “This will be tricky work. Merlin, I need needle and thread and bandages... and yarrow to stop the bleeding and honey to prevent infection. Oh, you know what to do!” Gaius was already pouring water from a pot hanging over the brazier into a bowl, his hands moving quickly for an old man as he cleansed the wound and sterilized his instruments. He looked up and addressed his queen, the girl he'd known and cared for over many years. “I'm afraid, my dear, this is going to hurt, but I'll be as fast as I can. Arthur, can you hold Gwen's leg down and don't let it move.”

The King didn't seem to hear.

“Arthur... please, do as I say,” Gaius requested authoritatively. “You can help Gwen best by keeping her leg still while I treat her.”

“Why?” Arthur looked up, at last, slightly bemused. “Why are you doing all this?” He swept his free hand over the paraphernalia laid out to treat Guinevere. “Can't Merlin just... magic her better or something?”

In the midst of his preparations, Merlin stilled. “Arthur? You can't be serious?”

“I am. What's the point of you having magic if you can't use it to help Guinevere?” Arthur asked, though his question sounded more like an order.

Merlin shook his head, returning to his task. “Arthur, I'll use healing spells if there is no other remedy. But Gwen's injury isn't life threatening. Besides, no one knows better than you that healing spells don't always work. They can go wrong. Remember your father!” He came back to the table carrying a small dish which held the fine powder he'd prepared.

“But you said that was because of Morgana's enchanted pendant!” Arthur said somewhat petulantly.

“And it was... But I'm not always proficient at healing magic,” Merlin excused himself. “I really need to train more. I'm sorry...”

On the table, Gwen had been listening to their exchange in silence, while steeling herself against the impending hurt of Gaius' treatment, but now she lost patience with them both. “Stop it! Now!” she commanded, every inch a queen, though lying prone, uncomfortable and in pain. “No one will use magic. Have you forgotten I am with child? I will not risk my life or my baby's in some stupid deal with The Triple Goddess, or whoever it is who makes the rules, about the natural balance of the world being maintained. I will not give them the chance to demand a life.” 

“Oh, my child,” Gaius exclaimed. “There is no need for you to fear such an outcome. You're not about to die and not everyone demands such a sacrifice. Now, if these two will let me continue with the surgery, you will soon feel much better.” With that last stricture, Gaius threw a withered look at both The King and The Warlock of Camelot. “Gentlemen? Shall we begin to help Gwen?”

“Sorry,” Merlin said quickly.

“Indeed, Gaius. Sorry.” Arthur took his place by Gwen's injured leg. “Forgive me, Guinevere. I only thought...”

“You didn't think, Arthur,” Gwen said faintly, as she laid her head down. She looked both pale and weak.

“Arthur, let me do this,” Merlin advised, pushing Arthur to the head of the bench again. “Go sit with Gwen and bathe her forehead.”

Very meekly, Arthur did as he was bid and within a shorter period of time than he'd believed possible, Gaius was tying off the bandage around Gwen's leg while Merlin cleared away the dirty cloths and used implements.

“Gwen, I want you to drink this,” Gaius instructed while he handed a small vial to Arthur. “It's a sedative, Sire. It will help her sleep and take away the pain.”

Sliding an arm beneath his queen's shoulders, Arthur supported her while she swallowed the potion. Yet she didn't need the sedative, her lids closing of their own volition over her pain-filled brown eyes. She did manage to send Arthur a tiny smile before falling asleep.

“Gaius, thank you,” Arthur whispered, calmer now he believed his beloved Guinevere to be safe. “Can we move her to the royal chambers?”

“I'd rather not, Sire. I want to keep her leg immobile, at least, for tonight. Let's see how she is tomorrow before we think of moving her. You can have a bed brought in here for The Queen.”

At once, Arthur was alert to the underlying worry he heard in the old physician's voice. He quickly looked to Merlin before addressing Gaius. “She is going to be all right, isn't she?”

“Barring infections, her wound should heal well... but she is pregnant, Arthur. Any trauma can complicate things.”

“You're saying she could lose the baby?”

Gaius was washing his hands, and as he finished, he took the towel Merlin offered. “There is a slight possibility, but I don't think we should borrow trouble, Arthur. For the moment, Gwen and the baby are safe and hopefully they will stay that way. Now why don't you go and organise a more comfortable bed for Gwen while I check on our other patient.”

“Morgana!” Arthur sounded horrified. “Yeah gods! I'd almost forgotten. How is she?”

 

*****

As soon as Arthur had ordered a comfortable bed for Guinevere and saw her gently installed therein with Mary Howden to nurse her, he turned all of his attention to Morgana's plight. Unfortunately, like Kay, he too was ordered into the outer room and told to be patient, in no uncertain terms, by both Gaius and Iseldir. It chafed him only a little that Merlin was invited into his old room to confer with both healers. He folded his arms across his chest, after pushing a desolate Kay onto a stool, and settled himself to wait.

But Arthur would not be held back forever, and Merlin understood that well. So it was that very shortly he sent Gaius to talk to his friend who was also Morgana's next of kin. 

“Arthur,” Gaius called softly as he came slowly and almost reluctantly down the short stairway. 

Immediately, Arthur left his stance at the foot of Gwen's bed to obey Gaius' summons, but trepidation kept him silent. He merely offered his arm to this man who had selflessly cared for all The Pendragons, leading Gaius to his narrow cot where he sank thankfully onto the mattress. Judging by Gaius' pallor and the trembling of the thin-skinned hand that clung to him for support, Arthur knew the physician was near the end of his tether. So he waited with as much restraint as he could muster for Gaius to speak.

“Sire, I'm afraid I bear you no good news,” Gaius said, looking up at this brave young man through rheumy eyes. “It's strange, but Morgana's injury is almost identical to that of your father's all those years ago... and I'm afraid the outcome is no better. Morgana is dying.”

There were a few moments where time seemed to stand still for Arthur as he digested these words. History was repeating itself. But that couldn't be true? In that room with his sister were two powerful warlocks... and though Merlin had inferred his healing skills weren't perfect, Isledir had cured people before. Leon was living proof of that fact.

“That can't be, Gaius. Surely between them Iseldir and Merlin can cure her?”

“Arthur, perhaps in these last few days, you've developed a higher expectancy of magic than is realistic. Given the circumstances, that's not surprising.” Gaius's shoulders drooped and he looked very much like the seventy-year old man he was. “Merlin is a powerful warlock, yet he couldn't cure you...”

“Because I still bear the shard of a sword forged in a dragon's breath,” Arthur intoned, trying to understand Gaius' meaning. “That can't be true of Morgana. Alvarr withdrew the knife. He had to since he struck Guinevere straight afterwards. Besides, the knife couldn't have been forged by a dragon. There are only two dragons... well, one now, and I'm certain Alvarr never came in contact with either.”

“Probably not,” Gaius agreed tiredly.

Arthur took a quick turn about the room, ending by the foot of the stairs leading to Merlin's old chamber. He gazed intently at the door. “If Merlin is reluctant to treat her for some strange reason I cannot fathom, then Iseldir surely can.”

“Iseldir has already tried, but without success. He believes only The Cup of Life could help Morgana and he doesn't know where that is.”

“But doesn't using The Cup of Life entail sacrificing another's life?” Arthur's mobile lips pursed. There was still so much about magic he didn't understand.

Gaius' equally mobile eyebrow flew upwards. “As I told Gwen before, that doesn't always follow. If you remember, Sir Leon was saved by the cup in the hands of Iseldir and I don't believe anyone died in his place.”

“Are you suggesting it was only Nimueh who enforced that condition?”

“Arthur, my boy, if you're asking me if Nimueh caused your mother's death, I cannot say for sure. I believe she knew that in creating your life another life would have to be taken, but I would swear that she didn't know who would die.” Gaius locked his hands together to still their trembling. He felt too old. He'd seen too much... but then he hadn't seen enough. “Perhaps there is a distinction between creating a life and saving a life. Yet, when Merlin saved yours after you were bitten by the Questing Beast by making you drink the water from the cup, Nimueh insisted on redressing the balance of the world by another's death. Merlin fought her with everything he had and Nimueh died instead of his mother or me, thus the world was again in balance.”

Sitting down beside Gaius, Arthur said thoughtfully, “Perhaps the distinction is less in the magic deed itself and more in the person who carries out those deeds.”

“You may have a point, Sire. Nimueh was a High Priestess, while Iseldir is a Druid. They both follow The Old Religion, but there are many paths to that religion. When I was a young man, it was noted that I had some gifts... though I never aspired to the talents of Merlin. Back then, sorcery was accepted and I was apprenticed to learn the healing arts. Along the way I learned some other enchantments, but I was never initiated into the ranks of the great sorcerers. I was certainly never welcomed on The Isle of the Blessed where young women were taught to be either High Priestesses or their acolytes. I'm afraid most of my knowledge of their doctrines has been learned through reading books.” He gestured to the many laden shelves which lined his chamber. “And hearsay, of course.”

“Yet for all that, you know much more than I,” Arthur gave a small, worn out smile. “To be honest, though I now realise that not all magic users are evil, I cannot bring myself to trust in High Priestesses. My dealings with the ones I've met haven't been exactly sympathetic.”

“Well, they have been trying to kill you in revenge.” Gaius returned his lopsided grin. “Hopefully, they'll be prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt in the future. Morgana certainly has had a change of heart.”

“And will die for her pains,” Arthur murmured softly. “I could almost wish that she hadn't. Isn't there any hope, Gaius?”

Gaius allowed his hand to rest on Arthur's shoulder. “There's always hope, my boy. But I must counsel you that in this case it's a very slim hope.” The old man sighed, hating to pass on this next piece of alarming news. “Alvarr was a sorcerer and we suspect that the blade he used in his assassination attempt was enchanted.”

“Enchanted? How so?” Arthur asked, his brow furrowing.

“He wanted to ensure you died, Arthur. At first, Iseldir believed the metal might be poisoned, but neither one of us could detect any sign of that... but there is a strong enchantment attached to the knife.”

Arthur stood abruptly, his stare again locked on the wooden door as if by the power of his mind he could see what was happening within. “So it is similar to the shard inside my chest?”

“Alvarr doesn't have the power of a dragon,” Gaius huffed dismissively. “And the knife remains intact...” 

“But? There is a but, Gaius. Isn't there?”

“Indeed.” For some seconds the old physician looked everywhere but at his king. “This enchantment could increase the likelihood that the injury would be lethal ... unless Merlin or Iseldir can find some way to counteract the spell.”

Taking a deep breath, Arthur perused this new and distressing information when suddenly his whole being felt cold as ice. “Gaius! Guinevere was also wounded by that knife!”

“Arthur, Guinevere's wound was a second strike, which could very well lessen the potency of the incantation.”

“Can you be sure of that?”

Again there was a silence which Gaius seemed reluctant to break, but Arthur deserved the truth. “Not totally. But I'm sure Merlin will succeed...”

It appeared Arthur was no longer listening. Silently he crossed to the screen which surrounded Gwen's bed and silently he sank to his knees by her side. His golden head came to rest on Guinevere's open hand. 

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think of the latest chapter? I'm a little anxious to hear your comments, should you want to leave them.
> 
> I'm having a one of those day surgeries tomorrow on one of my arms. I'm hoping I'll be right as rain afterwards, but if not, I might miss Wednesday's posting. I'm sure I'll be fine though.


	33. The Ladies of Camelot -- Morgana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter focuses on the fate of Morgana, though there are conversations between Arthur and Merlin and Morgana's champion, Sir Kay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank a couple of people who added kudos, and, of course, Annie, who never lets me down.
> 
> I don't own Merlin or the characters.

Chapter Thirty-three

The Ladies of Camelot – Morgana

 

Merlin stood above Gwen, his hand barely touching her bandaged leg as he incanted the few words in the ancient language.

“Aclaensian bilswaep!”

So briefly did his eyes flash gold that Arthur could have sworn he'd only imagined the change of colour in Merlin's eyes.

“That's it? That's all you have to do?” The King asked, his brows lifting incredulously. “Guinevere's well now?”

“I've cleansed the wound of magic. Now it should heal naturally, but that will take a little time,” Merlin explained with a shrug, touching Gwen's hand as she groaned and turned towards her husband. “I wish I could say the same for Morgana.”

“You didn't use the same spell on Morgana?” Arthur sounded shocked, yet he tucked the blankets around his wife's shoulder, his hand toying tenderly with her dark curls as he smiled down on her. Abruptly, he looked up, his smile dying. “Merlin, do you have something against saving Morgana?”

“No! Why would I and why would you think that?” Merlin asked, his expression a combination of hurt and annoyance. “And I did use the spell on her... it's just that purifying her injury doesn't change the fact that she could be mortally wounded.”

“Merlin, I'm sorry,” Arthur said quickly. “I should never... Of course I don't doubt you. It's just that I'm tired and wretched...”

“I doubt you! I was told you were the most powerful warlock ever,” interrupted another voice from a shaded corner of Gaius' room. “I think you don't want her to get better,” Kay accused, walking forward into the light, the candles showing off his haggard countenance. “Perhaps you don't want a rival sorcerer here in Camelot!”

“Kay, that's nonsense!” Arthur chose to answer, defending his best friend from one of his oldest comrades. “Merlin doesn't have a jealous bone in his body.”

“So you say! Didn't he already kill Morgana?” Kay spat out, clearly overcome by distress at Morgana's fate, and making Arthur wonder just how deep the knight's feelings for his sister went.

“He had to! She was about to kill me.” Arthur glanced down at his wife, but, thankfully, Guinevere was still asleep, unaware of the angry words being exchanged above her head. He left the shelter of the bedside, passed the wooden-latticed screen to confront Kay. “But that is behind us now. Morgana has changed and neither Merlin nor I wish to see her die... only we might not have a choice.”

“Then order him to help her.” Kay stretched out a hand, pointing straight at Merlin. “If he's as powerful as he claims, he should be able to save her. Surely even you can see that, Arthur.”

Arthur pushed aside his own qualms about Merlin's reluctance. “It's not quite so straightforward, Sir Kay. Did you hear anything of my conversation with Gaius earlier? There can be some very unpleasant consequences in bringing someone back from near death.”

“I did listen... and you said it depended on who was wielding the spell,” Kay affirmed, unwilling to give up his argument.

Arthur's head shook from side to side in exasperation. “I was only surmising. Believe me, I am not an authority on magic.”

“Yet you returned it to your realm?” Kay's stance was mulish, driven by his burgeoning feelings for Morgana.

“I know enough to realise that magic can be used for good as well as evil!” Arthur replied, anger beginning to stir within him. “And I did not give magic users permission to use it to harm others. Tell me, Kay, have you been paying attention at all, or have you been too busy paying court to my sister?”

At those words, Kay blanched and his hand went to his sword, forgetting his boyhood companion was now The King, but before he had a chance to draw the weapon, Arthur spoke again.

“Forgive me, Kay. That was unfair.” A rueful grin touched Arthur's lips. “I always knew you held Morgana in high regard... even when we were children. Believe me when I say I don't want Morgana to die. She might have been a thorn in my side for many years, yet it appears that's no longer true... and I've learned not to act out of vengeance. I'm sure I speak for Merlin too.”

“You do!” Merlin agreed, stepping up to his king's side. “Sir Kay, you don't know me, nor Iseldir, so it's only natural that you doubt us, but we're trying everything in our power and we will not give up hope until Morgana draws her last breath.” 

Camelot's newest knight bridled, though there was a chink of indecision in his eyes. Arthur saw it at once and pushed forward this slight advantage. “Kay, you might not have a reason to trust either Iseldir or Merlin, but I do... Have faith in me when I stand surety for them.” Arthur spread his hands wide. “Without Merlin, I would be dead, and without Iseldir Sir Leon would have died some years ago. You can ask him if you mistrust me!”

“I would, but Sir Leon isn't in the city. I know because I looked for him. He and that big knight Percival left earlier, though no one seems to know why or where they've gone,” Kay said, but the censure was leaching from his voice. “I don't doubt you, Arthur... not really.”

“No...” Arthur drew the word out as he glanced at Merlin, who answered with a simple shrug while replying telepathically.

“He's your friend. Tell him if you want. You don't seriously believe Kay is in league with King Mark?”

“I never considered that for a moment. Kay has no subterfuge in him.”

Since he'd asked Kay to trust him, Arthur felt he should return the favour. He took a deep breath before speaking aloud. “They're not in the city because they've taken what remains of my light cavalry and are heading south-west even as we speak to confront King Mark of Cornwall.”

“Mark of Cornwall?” Kay sounded mystified. “What does he have to do with anything?”

“Everything! He's trying to take over Albion and seize my throne. Lord Avebury was his accomplice...”

With his hands instinctively fisting, Kay ground out between clenched teeth. “That's why he tried to have you killed?”

“More or less,” Arthur agreed, his voice flat with weariness. “We've had Avebury watched for some time and we discovered he instructed his man Daman to hire a sorcerer to kill me, so that magic would be blamed. He never really cared about magic being legalised. It was all just a ploy to keep us from suspecting his true purpose for being in Camelot. Only he got more than he bargained for.”

“Thank the gods for that... and you, Lord Emrys.” Kay finally saluted Merlin and the smile he gave the warlock was small but genuine.

“There's no need to thank me, Kay, or for calling me Lord Emrys. I've been saving Arthur's life on a fairly regular basis for years.” Merlin laughed depreciatingly. “And you must call me Merlin. Lord Emrys is too grand for someone like me. I doubt I'll ever get used to it,” Merlin ended with another lift of his narrow shoulders.

“Nevertheless, I feel I should apologise for questioning you for a time there,” Kay admitted with a heartier grin. “But, please, is there truly nothing to be done for Morgana?”

Fortunately, Merlin didn't have to give Kay more negative news as someone knocked quietly on the door and entered without waiting for permission.

“Your Highness,” Lord Cedric spoke in hushed tones as he walked closer to address his king. “I hope you don't mind me interrupting... but the council are worried about The Queen. Is she hurt very badly?”

After gazing once more towards the screen which shielded his sleeping Gwen and an attentive Mary Howden, Arthur replied in an undertone. “Thank you for asking, Cedric. You may tell the council that The Queen's wound was not mortal and with proper care and rest, Gaius assures me she'll recover.”

“That's excellent news, Sire.” Cedric bowed, his voice and countenance full of relief, but he hesitated to leave. “There is something else you need to know. Geoffrey of Monmouth took the liberty of calling a council meeting to address the death of Lord Avebury...”

A stern mask settled over Arthur's face. Avebury was a nobleman and Merlin's position of advisor was still very recent. Was the question of magic's usage going to be raised so soon after the ballot? Somehow, he wasn't sure he could handle trouble from the council at this moment in time.

“And?” he stated severely, rolling his shoulder in an effort to free it from pain.

“And we reached the conclusion that Merlin acted in your defence. Had he not used his magic to repel Avebury, it might be you lying in a bed critically injured.”

Arthur and Merlin both let out audible sighs, but Arthur took it upon himself to respond. “Thank you for letting us know so promptly. I'm sure Merlin is just as relieved as I that he doesn't face the death penalty.”

“Not that I would ever let that happen,” Arthur added quickly for Merlin's ears only.

“I'm sure no one in the council ever contemplated that scenario, Sire... but before I go, there is more to tell,” the elderly noble didn't wish to burden Arthur with affairs of state at this time, but he did have important information to impart to The King. “The council decided we should search Avebury's chambers to see if we could shed some light on why he should try to kill you. They weren't convinced he was simply angry over losing the ballot and neither Geoffrey nor I chose to dissuade them.”

“I think we all know that wasn't his true motive,” Arthur said, with a tired grin. Geoffrey and Cedric were wily old warhorses who were quite capable of leading the council when he or Guinevere were indisposed... and thankfully, they seemed completely loyal to the current House of Pendragon.

“Indeed it wasn't, Sire. It didn't take the guards long to discover a hiding place in his travel chest and we found a document therein which commits Lord Avebury to prepare a path for Mark of Cornwall to usurp your throne.”

“So he was foolish enough to carry written proof,” Merlin joined the conversation, noticing that Arthur was almost dropping with fatigue. There was little hope that the two of them would be capable of riding out tonight to join the expeditionary force, even if they weren't concerned for the well being of Camelot's Ladies.

“Indeed! He was a very foolish and prideful man and he deserved to die,” Lord Cedric offered his opinion before bowing and taking leave of Arthur, only asking that he and Geoffrey be kept informed of both Gwen's and Morgana's health. They would pass the news on to the rest of the council.

Then he was gone and a strange stillness fell over the room, born of too many hours spent working towards legalising magic, laying down plans to subvert Mark's conquest and not forgetting the alliance Mark had made with Alined. Arthur could be forgiven for thinking that peace was a long way off, but Kay was speaking again and this time with more authority.

“Arthur, forgive me for wavering from my duty to you even for a moment. I should have remembered your honest heart... though you did a very good job of trying to hide it on occasion.”

Arthur held his hand aloft, stopping Kay in mid flow. Flattery embarrassed him, being more used to Merlin's impudent jibes. “There's nothing to forgive between old friends. Yet there is one thing you can do for me, Kay.”

“You have only to ask.” Now Kay's smile was back full force.

“Don't be so hasty to pledge your support, for I fear you may not like what I want you to do.” Allowing his tiredness to get the better of him, Arthur rested his backside on the edge of the table where Gaius had treated Guinevere, his fingers idly following the faint trace marks of her blood which hadn't yet been cleaned away. Why were his loved ones always a target for people who wanted him dead? He shook himself alert. “Merlin and I were to join the army tonight, but neither of us can leave Camelot as yet. Nevertheless, I need to know what progress they are making and if they have already encountered the Cornwallian army. Would you be my eyes and ears, Sir Kay?”

“I will go, Sire, if you insist... and gladly, but can I ask that you send someone else, if possible.” This time it was Kay's eyes which strayed to the little staircase and the wooden door above it. “I too have a reason to remain here in Camelot for now.”

“Kay, I'm sorry, but my knights are sadly depleted after the battle at Camlann and I need someone who I trust,” Arthur said smiling sympathetically at a lovelorn Kay while he placed one booted foot on a nearby bench.

“Arthur, Sir Tristan has returned,” Merlin inserted quickly, understanding Kay's pain. How long had it been since he himself had felt helpless to prevent the girl he loved from dying? Yet, at moments like these, the pain surged back... raw as ever.

“Tristan?” Arthur's eyes sparked with enthusiasm for the first time since the celebrations had turned into a nightmare, when The First Ladies of Camelot had been struck down. For a few seconds, he frowned. When had he returned to thinking of Morgana in those terms? Yet, his sovereign's duty compelled him to put aside personal musings. “Tristan? Are you sure, Merlin. He's not presented himself to me.”

“I doubt he's had the time. I only spotted him when I was searching for Alvarr in the quadrangle, but it was he. Besides, you know what he's like.”

“You mean he doesn't stand on ceremony? Follow protocol?” Arthur asked, managing a self-derogatory bark of laughter. “I remember that well. Actually, I'm surprised he even accepted a knighthood from me, losing Isolde as he did in my service.”

Merlin nodded supportively as he too sat on the bench at Arthur's side. “I don't think he ever blamed you for that. People die in war,” his voice was quiet with sorrow as he remembered the cynical smugglers who had found something so worthwhile in Arthur that they were willing to risk their lives for him. “Tristan and Isolde knew that, but they still chose to fight for you. Actually, I think he was glad you gave him a home after Isolde's death... a place to return to when he's sick of wandering.”

Arthur's mouth turned up at the corners in the shadow of a smile. “I could never tie him down... even I realised that.” The King turned to Kay. “He's a knight of Camelot with the right to roam. He's probably returned because he heard about Camlann. You might have a reprieve, Kay. I'll ask Tristan to accept my commission and he'll probably be only too happy to leave the city. Sir Tristan is never happy staying in one place for long.”

“Thank you, Sire.” Kay bowed as he spoke. “I won't forget and I'll obey your every command in future.”

“Oh, I wouldn't offer Arthur such a carte blanche. He'll have you running around like someone demented within no time,” Merlin laughed. Just for a moment, he felt his spirits rise.

“Don't worry about Kay, Merlin,” Arthur too grinned. “He's very adroit at making himself scarce when I'm ordering him about.”

Even Kay broke into a smile at that. “It was a survival skill when you were playing the spoilt prince. Anyone with half a brain kept out of your way. I remember Morgana was the only one who could give as good as she got!”

Morgana's name had the disastrous effect of returning them all to the present and the very sombre knowledge that she might never regain consciousness. Silence descended like a heavy fog over the three men.

Again it was Arthur who recalled his duty first. He slid off his impromptu seat, adjusting his belt and his scabbard. “What do you think, Merlin? Can I take some time out to find Sir Tristan and ask him to ride after Leon... or am I needed here?”

Rising too, Merlin answered honestly, “Gwen is asleep, Arthur, and I believe she'll stay that way for quite some time. In fact, rest is the best thing for her. As for Morgana...” Here Merlin hesitated; he really had no idea if Morgana would slip away without waking. “If she does wake and asks for you, I'll tell her you'll return as soon as possible... and she does have Kay.”

After a long measured glance at Kay, Arthur spoke, aware that he did want to talk to Morgana. “Good! I'll hurry back. After all she's done, I still would like to wish her well... wherever she might be going.”

 

***** 

 

The King had only been gone a short while when the door to Merlin's old room opened and Gaius' wan face peered out. “Merlin, come quickly, Morgana is awake and has asked for you.”

“Me?” Merlin had assumed he would be the last person she wished to talk to. After all, he doubted he was her favourite person. Though his meetings with her since she'd returned to Camelot had been fairly ambiguous, she'd treated him as a mortal enemy for many a long year. 

Was he the only one who felt it a little surreal that she would ask to meet the very person who had killed her? Though perhaps in killing her, she'd been cleansed of the bitterness which had contaminated her soul, allowing her true personality to return.

“Yes, Merlin,” Gaius answered impatiently. “Don't stand their gaping. Do hurry. We have no idea how long Morgana will remain conscious.”

Merlin started walking dreamlike towards the stairs. Perhaps she believed he could cure her with magic. He would certainly try. Without a second thought, she'd been willing to sacrifice her own life to save Arthur, and for that Merlin would be forever in her debt.

There was the spell he'd used to save Uther. That hadn't worked... but mainly because of Morgana enchanting the pendant to the left-hand path. Or he could try the one he'd used on Arthur when Morgana had bewitched Gwen to murder her husband... but that had been for poisoning... hadn't it? Merlin shook his head to clear away the cobwebs. Now he was attempting to heal Morgana. He just hoped she wouldn't change sides again if he was successful.

He'd reached the door to the room and he entered warily. Even in his narrow bed, Morgana looked diminutive, her fair skin paler than it had been some time before when they'd purified her wound of Alvarr's lethal magic. Now a faint tinge of blue haloed her lips and her breathing was laboured. Gaius and Iseldir had dressed her in a clean white gown, yet he could see the edge of the bandages that circled her chest and shoulder.

Her eyes opened at the sound of his soft footsteps. She'd been waiting for him and, with a great effort, she lifted her arm toward him, only this time there was no menace in her gesture. Merlin took the last few steps quickly and slid into a chair by the bed, taking her outstretched hand without a conscious thought. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Iseldir cross to the door, leaving to give the two most powerful sorcerers in the land some privacy.

“Don't be afraid, Morgana. Between Gaius, Iseldir and myself, we'll find a way to save you,” he heard himself say, though his voice sounded strange... cracked... old, as if part of Dragoon were inhabiting his body.

“No, Merlin,” she replied very low, her head barely moving on the pillow and her breath whispering in concert with her words. “You mustn't. I have told Iseldir the same. You must not use sorcery to bring me back.”

“But it's all right now. Maybe you didn't hear Arthur's announcement, but magic is allowed in Camelot from this day forth.” Merlin sought to reassure her. 

“I heard... and I am glad,” Morgana stated, finding the strength to lift her head, but it was fleeting and she soon collapsed back in her bed. “But magic has already brought me back from the dead. That was wrong.”

If Merlin had been unsure about Morgana's fate, that confusion faded and he grinned irreverently. “Magic brought Arthur back from the dead too. Can you say that was wrong?”

“He was brought back for a purpose. I know that now. To free magic... and sorcerers. To unite the kingdom.” Morgana spoke in short bursts, as if she had to ration every breath. A grimace of pain crossed her face and her eyes closed.

With an anguish he never expected to feel, Merlin too closed his eyes, fighting tears and staying silent for a moment, until he heard a footfall behind him.

“You were brought back for a purpose too, Morgana,” Arthur said, coming to stand by Merlin and placing a supportive hand on the warlock's shoulder. “Though I assume for a very different reason than Alvarr expected.” The timbre of Arthur's voice was deep, though hushed with melancholy. “If not for you, Alvarr would've succeeded in killing me. I doubt my body is strong enough to survive another deadly blow.”

“Merlin would have stopped him,” Morgana murmured... threadlike.

“No,” Merlin said with certainty. “My attention was elsewhere... and I never suspected there were more of these magical crystals. Alvarr slipped completely past my guard.”

“And I don't think the law to legalise magic would have withstood my death at a sorcerer's hand.” Arthur sat down exhaustedly on his sister's cot, careful not to hurt her. To his eyes she looked as diaphanous and fragile as a snowflake in the winter sun. “So you see, Morgana, it needed both of us to bring back magic to Camelot.” 

The shadow of a smile graced her lips. “Thank you for saying so. You're a better man than your father ever was.” Again she paused to garner her stamina. “Somehow I'd forgotten that along the way.”

“Morgana, please let Merlin heal you,” Arthur pleaded, at last laying a light hand on her arm. “You've just come back to us and I cannot watch you die... not again.”

“You also have a more forgiving heart than I, my brother. Albion will be safe in your hands.”

“Morgana,” Merlin called to her as her eyes had closed. “Don't give up!”

Both men held their breath as they waited despairingly, but Morgana had only fallen asleep momentarily. Once more she forced her eyes open and rested her exhausted, yet lovely gaze upon them. “Neither of you should fear for me, but there is much to be done since I don't intend to die... Not here... Not yet...”

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's this Wednesday's post. I have only 2 more chapters after this one. I hope that perhaps some of you will be sad to see my story end.
> 
> As always, please leave a comment if you feel inclined. I'd love to hear from you.


	34. The Journey to Avalon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the story of a journey... a time for people to really talk to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure what happened because I really thought I'd posted the final chapters before I left on a trip with my husband. It was only when I returned home that I discovered ch 33 was the last that was showing up.
> 
> I'm sorry to keep you waiting, and I'm also sorry if these last posts are duplicates.

Chapter Thirty-four

The Journey to Avalon

 

“Gwen, I'm sorry, but if you insist on coming, then you'll do as I say... please, sweetheart,” Arthur added, somewhat destroying the effect of his lofty command, as he carried Guinevere down the stairs, emerging into the courtyard of the castle by the side exit. “Just let me fuss over you. It makes me feel better.”

“But Gaius and Merlin have checked my wound and, because Merlin used magic, they're both certain I'll heal without any complications.” Gwen lifted her gloved hand to caress Arthur's cheek. She'd learned to become independent, increasingly confident in her choices, yet she was warmed by her husband's care. “I've already agreed to ride in the wagon. There's no reason for you to worry.”

“You're carrying our baby, Guinevere. I can't help but be anxious that you're making a fairly long journey so soon after you've been injured. You're going to have to get used to me fussing.”

“Arthur, you can't fret over me for the next six months. We'll both go insane.”

“Will you two stop?” Merlin emerged behind them, leading the guards who were carrying a litter which held an unconscious Morgana. “This trip is going to be unbearable if you continue to bicker like this.”

“We're not bickering,” Arthur stated, his bottom lip protruding in one of his classic pouts, a clear indication he was unhappy with the situation yet unable to change it.

Merlin's eyes glinted incredulously. “No? It sounded pretty much like it to me. Look, Arthur, you've already given Gwen permission to come with us... against your better judgement, I realise, but you did agree, so don't bore us with recriminations. This journey will be hard enough without listening to your complaints.”

A day and a half had passed since Morgana had told them of her travel plans and, though each of them had tried to persuade her she stood a better chance of survival if she stayed safe in Camelot, she remained adamant. This was her final journey and she was determined to take it.

So with heavy hearts, they set about making preparations to ensure her passage was as comfortable as possible. However, it had certainly thrown Arthur and Merlin into confusion when Guinevere woke up and announced she would join them. Merlin understood her reasoning... she'd been with them from the first day he'd arrived in Camelot when he, Arthur, Morgana and Guinevere had begun their long adventure to bring back magic and unite Albion. Only, they hadn't known it then.

The first part of the prophecy had been accomplished, though there was still some way to go to unite Albion. Merlin felt it was for this reason that Arthur had been spared, but perhaps Morgana had played her role and thus she recognised it was time to end her part in the story... for the present.

“Arthur, Merlin's right.” Guinevere's words interrupted the warlock's thoughts. “I understand you have reservations, but Gaius gave his permission for me to go... and Merlin and Iseldir are there to care for me as well as Morgana. I promise I'll be good and take all my medicine.” She conceded to the latter easily, as the ache in her leg still troubled her. “Please, I wish to say goodbye too. Can't we all try our very best to make this time into a memory we can hold in our hearts forever?” Gwen's eyes strayed to Morgana's sleeping form as the stretcher bearers lifted her onto the base of the large covered wagon which had been converted especially for this pilgrimage to Avalon.

As always, Guinevere's arguments soothed Arthur's irritation, which, it had to be said, stemmed only from stress about Gwen's and the baby's safety, plus worry about what might be happening to his shock troops on the borders of his realm. He was used to being in the thick of the action, sharing the risks with his fighting knights and soldiers. Long range command was very new to him, but Tristan had left at noon the previous day with a score of scouts who would ride hard to join up with Leon's army. Once there, he had promised to send back messengers who would meet up with Arthur on his way to Avalon, letting him know all the details of the campaign and giving him the chance to advise on strategy from a distance.

Guinevere was honest enough to admit she was happy with this state of affairs... it had only been a short time ago when she thought he'd died in battle... but she did understand her husband's frustration and, once again, she smoothed down his golden hair and let her hand trace the line of his cheek and jaw. 

Arthur pressed his lips quickly to her fingers before confessing, “You're right, Guinevere and I'm acting like a spoilt child who's lost his favourite toy. This journey should be one to cherish.”

Without any more to be said, he passed Guinevere up to the guards in the carriage before jumping up beside her, helping her to rest on one of the thickly feathered pallets which would be the ladies' beds for the time it took the party to reach their destination. As he arranged the many cushions behind her and under her injured leg to make her comfortable, Merlin hoisted himself up to carry out the same task for the unconscious Morgana. 

Although Morgana had awakened a number of times since that first night, her periods of consciousness were short and painful, prompting her three healers to sedate her for the first part of her journey. Though ever the headstrong young woman, she'd agreed to take her medicine on the most difficult stages of the long trip. 

From across the quadrangle marched Sir Kay followed by Geoffrey, Cedric and Lady Amena. No one had been able to persuade the knight to stay behind, not even an order from The King. Kay had merely stated that if ordered not to accompany the small cavalcade, he would simply follow some distance behind. Since it had been agreed between Gaius, Merlin and Iseldir that Mary Howden should come with them to see to the women's comfort, Arthur had felt unable to resist Kay's entreaty. In some sense he'd been a little relieved, knowing he himself was far from fighting strength and not wishing Merlin to carry the whole responsibility for the party's safety. There could very well be pockets of Saxons out there, and there were certainly brigands still operating in the countryside, even though he and the knights had managed to weed out the majority.

Geoffrey and Cedric bowed their heads and Lady Amena gave a small curtsy when they reached the party by the wagon.

“Don't fear for Camelot, Sire, when you are gone,” Cedric said kindly but with some gravitas. “Between myself, Geoffrey and Gaius your peoples' welfare both social and physical will be well taken care of. We have your instructions, and we will send messages by the ravens should anything unexpected occur.”

“Thank you, Cedric,” Arthur replied with a faint smile and a nod of his head in return. “I have no worries for the city at present, and if word from the army in the west is troubling, then I've every confidence in your combined experience to resist a siege.” Arthur's gaze included the elder statesmen of Camelot, his brow darkening at the possibility of his city being attacked once more, however small. “If that's the case, I'll return with the army as soon as I may and, hopefully, with reinforcements from Queen Annis. It's my intention that we defeat King Mark in the border lands and that the threat from Alined's army will disintegrate if he loses his ally. King Rodor has promised to keep a close watch on his border, so you should have plenty of warning should Alined find the courage to assault us.”

“We'll do as you wish, Arthur,” Geoffrey spoke up. “And we've every faith in your judgement and skills. Camelot will not founder with you as our King.”

Once more, Arthur was astounded by Geoffrey's support. He'd always been a loyal courtier to Uther, yet had remained firmly in the background. Arthur could only surmise that Geoffrey hadn't been in total agreement with his father's policies but knew better than to resist them. It spoke a little of self-preservation... and yet hadn't he been guilty of that too? There had been times when he'd questioned his father, but Uther wasn't a man who accepted criticism well... not from his son and definitely not from his council members. It wasn't the style he wanted for his own reign.

“Thank you, Geoffrey. Let's hope Camelot is safe in all our hands and I, at least, have no doubt that you will play your parts.”

While The King had been speaking to his counsellors the grooms had brought forward four horses. He, Merlin, Kay and Bryce of Longstead would ride, though Bryce was only going as far on the road to where he would turn north towards his village. Iseldir would travel on the wagon's bench next to the driver while Mary shared the interior with Camelot's ladies, taking care of them on the journey.

It was a small party who were setting out for the Lake of Avalon, and there had been a suggestion that as such they were vulnerable, but Arthur was convinced that with Kay's swordsmanship and Merlin's magic they had enough protection. Besides, he was feeling stronger, so might be able to acquit himself fairly well if they were set upon.

Gaius had appeared in the archway, carrying a large medicine bag and calling Merlin and Arthur to his side.

“All the potions you require are in here,” he said, patting the bag. “Arthur, I've packed enough medicine to see you through the journey and back, but if you ride on to join your army, you'll need more.” The physician's eyebrow lifted as his chin dipped, showing he wasn't at all happy with that scenario. “You have to let me know if this is the case and I'll send you more supplies. But as your physician, I strongly recommend that you don't go chasing after your men.”

Arthur managed a kind smile for the old man, knowing Gaius only chided him out of love and worry. “Gaius, I'm hardly going to ride to battle with Guinvere still recovering and being with child. Barring totally unforeseen circumstances, I'll return with Gwen before I go chasing after my knights.”

Gaius laughed ruefully. “I expect that's the best reassurance you can give me. Just promise me you'll take care.”

Nodding firmly, Arthur left to give instructions to the commander of his knights, Sir Gilbert, an older, experienced knight who would be left in charge of the security of Camelot. Once The King had gone Gaius turned to Merlin. “There is enough sedation in here to keep Morgana asleep for most of the journey, which is the safest way for her to travel, yet, knowing Morgana, I'm sure she'll make up her own mind about how much of the medicine she'll take. Try to persuade her, but don't force her. Without a miracle, she's not going to survive, so keeping her calm and happy is paramount.”

“I agree, and I'll do my best for her,” Merlin concurred, his mouth smiling confidently at his mentor, but his eyes showing his grief. “I know she's persecuted Arthur and Camelot these past few years...”

“She's also tried to kill you, Merlin,” Gaius reminded him.

Merlin gave a half-hearted grimace. “But I do believe she's changed, Gaius. Her contrition isn't an act.”

“I'm sure you're right, my boy. When she threw herself in front of Arthur, she did it without a second thought for her own survival... but Morgana was... is a High Priestess. She has a great deal of power and, as we know, power can corrupt, which is why I'm asking you to be vigilant. I've talked to Iseldir and he agrees with me that you should continue with the wards until you reach Avalon.” 

“I'm not sure Arthur would be happy knowing that,” Merlin pointed out, looking across at his king.

“Arthur is too trusting for his own good,” Gaius groaned, his head shaking back and forth. “Underneath that brash exterior, he wants to see the good in everyone, especially his own sister. You have to be cautious for him.”

The years slipped away as Merlin's memory took him to a deep cave in Ismere where The Diamair had told him Arthur's Bane was himself. It was as true then as it was now... occasionally Arthur didn't make the best of choices, which was why he needed Merlin. Once Arthur wouldn't admit to that, but now, at least, that had changed which made his task easier.

“I will, Gaius,” Merlin assured the man who was like a father to him. “And Gwen is with us. Arthur might have needed some convincing that Gwen is fit enough to travel, but she'll keep him in check.”

Merlin had just finished talking when Arthur mounted up, calming his horse with a soft hand when it bridled. “Is everyone ready?” he called out. “We need to get going while the sun is still with us.” The King searched the sky where dark clouds were massing in turbulent waves in the west. “Those are storm clouds and I'd like to reach the village of Trym before the rain starts.”

Everyone scurried to get in place and the final goodbyes were said before the tiny cavalcade trotted over the drawbridge, heading through the city for western gate. When Gaius and Cedric reached the battlements the royal party was well along the road, disappearing out of view now and then between the trees of the home wood.

“Don't worry, Gaius. I'm sure they'll be fine.” Cedric placed a comforting hand on the physician's shoulder. “And they'll be back before too long.”

Gaius gave a sad smile, his eyes never leaving the figures in the distance. “True, Cedric. But I believe there is one among them I will never see again. Not so long ago, I wouldn't have minded... yet now... my heart is sore.”

*****

The rain drummed on the roof of the barn like stones hurled from a hundred slings, while the wind gusted coldly through the broken shutters and water puddled under the ill-hung door. The old building wasn't much of a shelter but it was the best the impoverished villagers could do and they'd made their sovereign welcome by offering to share their meagre fare. 

Arthur was torn between insulting his people by refusing their hospitality or depriving them of their hard earned food. Besides, the travellers had brought their own provisions. In the end they'd compromised by accepting a small cask of the villagers' mead but sharing out the food from Camelot. 

The barn wasn't a large structure and hardly in good repair, yet somehow they'd managed to shoehorn the wagon and all of the party inside. Unfortunately, they hadn't quite reached Trym by the time the storm hit, so, for a time, they'd huddled in silence around the fires burning in two braziers, filling their stomachs while trying to warm their cold bones and dry their wet clothes. 

Now, the odour of damp wool mixed with the smell of sodden horse-flesh, since the storm was too extreme to tether the horses outside. Strangely, however, the sounds of their mounts methodically chewing their food merging with the crackle of burning logs was comforting. Here within the warm glowing circle of the barn they were safer than they had any right to expect on such a storm battered night. Bryce and the driver had already succumbed to sleep, their backs against a wagon-wheel, their feet stretched towards a fire.

Guinevere leaned tightly against her husband's side, bundled in her cloak and a blanket from the wagon which had both fared better than those exposed to the elements, thanks to the heavy waxed linen covering of the cart. Now that she was warm and replete from one of Merlin's hot stews, she dozed quietly, not even waking fully when Arthur began to talk.

“Will this soaking have harmed Morgana's chances of surviving till we reach Avalon?” he asked Merlin quietly, smoothing his hand over Gwen's arm. “Or Guinevere's recovery, for that matter?”

“I shouldn't think so. They were both fairly dry inside the wagon. We weren't out in the storm long enough for the water to soak through,” Merlin answered after due consideration. “To tell the truth, I'm more concerned with your health. You're the one who got wet.”

Reinforcing Merlin's worries, Arthur coughed, the ache of it harsh on his face.

“So did you and the rest,” he said when he could, waving a hand over the other men, while completely oblivious to the fact that he'd awakened his Guinevere.

“Yes, but none of us have bits of sword lodged in our chest. You need an extra dose of Gaius' remedy,” Merlin announced, rummaging through the medicine bag.

“Merlin, I think you delight in...” Arthur barked again, silencing the protest he was about to make. “Delight in torturing me,” he finished on a hoarse note, but didn't demur when handed a small bottle of the substance. Instead he drained it down and felt a warming bubble sooth his innards, but whether that was from the potion or the golden sheen he'd spotted in Merlin's and Iseldir's gazes, he had no idea. With a droll smile, he surmised that two warlocks might be better than one, though he wasn't about to admit that. Then they'd never stop coddling him.

A now thoroughly lucid Gwen had no such qualms. “Thank you, Merlin and Iseldir. Between you both Arthur should arrive at Avalon in one piece.”

Mary Howden climbed down from the wagon bed, drying her hands and crossing to the circle around the flaring braziers. “Morgana managed to eat a little, but now she's tired... so very tired.” Mary stretched her hands to the flames, distractedly searching her fingers for chilblains. Surely it was too early in the year for those. She hoped this storm didn't herald a cold autumn; the harvest wasn't completely gathered in. Mary cleared her throat and turned to the young man who'd once come to Longstead to heal her friends. “Lord Emrys, my lady asks to speak with you.”

Again Merlin looked slightly surprised, but he stood upright, stretched his lanky limbs, allowing his blanket to slide from his shoulders before he hurried to the wagon and climbed on board. He could feel Kay's gimlet stare lodged on his back. Clearly the knight had been hoping for a summons.

Once inside, Merlin sat in the chair between the two pallets, keeping silent, watching the shallow rise and fall of Morgana's chest as she breathed. He didn't notice when her eyes opened, but he heard the throaty whisper of his name...

“Merlin?”

“Yes, Morgana,” he answered, his voice light, though his heart was heavy. “You have something to tell me?”

A ghost of a smile flickered across her face. “There are many things I could tell you, but I doubt I have the energy or the time.”

For a moment, Merlin thought to cozen her with false hope, yet Morgana was too intelligent  
and worldly wise to dupe. Neither would he insult her so. “Then tell me what you think is most important. Perhaps we'll have time later on the journey for more instructions.” He finished with a wry grin.

“I'm not sure I seek to instruct you, Merlin...”

“Come, Morgana. No false modesty. I might be The Emrys, but there is still much you could teach me...”

“And yet I leave that teaching to others.” Here she stopped, swallowed hard while her tongue licked her chapped lips.

“Would you like some water?” Merlin asked, all solicitude and when she nodded, he found a flagon and beaker and held her head up while she sipped, his heart aching as some of the water spilled from the corner of her mouth. Very carefully, he blotted her skin dry.

After a second or two she continued, very low, summoning her strength with her indefatigable will. “Thank you.” With a slight wave she beckoned him closer and when he came, she seized hold of his hand. “This is important, Merlin... More than you can know. I'll try to speak it all, but stay with me should I fall asleep.”

Merlin nodded and waited.

“I won't waste time by talking of these past years... only I'll say that I was wrong. I know that now...”

“You weren't always in the wrong, Morgana. Uther was a tyrant and you were right to challenge him.”

“True! But Uther is gone and soon I will be no more.” Morgana found the fortitude to lift her hand to warn him to silence. “No, Merlin. Now is not the time for falsity. We both know my time in this world is almost over. I am a Priestess of the Old Religion... and I do not fear to pass beyond the veil.” From somewhere, Morgana found the power to speak more strongly. “Besides, I'm bound for Avalon... not a crypt or a pyre. My future in the other world is secure. But it is my brother I fear for...”

“Don't be afraid for him. He's in my care, just as he has always been,” Merlin said reassuringly, squeezing her hand.

For the first time, Morgana showed her impatience. “Not in this life, Merlin, but in the other world, where we know you cannot follow him.”

Sitting up straighter, the warlock asked urgently, “Have you seen Arthur's future? Should I stop him riding to confront Mark of Cornwall?”

“Peace, Merlin,” Morgana said, smiling honestly. “I have no premonition that Arthur will die soon... and if anyone can stop my brother from going to fight they must have more power than I supposed. Arthur is a warrior and even a disabled warrior can be of use on the field of battle. You would do well to remember that.”

Merlin grinned back. “I can't argue with you there. So Arthur will triumph over King Mark?”

“Camelot's army will be victorious and Arthur will live to see his child grow. But do not question me about the future. I've said all I intend to on that score... more, if I'm honest.” Morgana's eyelids drifted shut, masking the heartache pooling in her eyes. Yet, she needed but a moment to compose herself. “I would've liked to share in that future... Camelot's Golden Age... but it is not for me.”

“Morgana...” Yet Merlin's protest died unspoken. He too recognised the truth in her words.

“Thank you for not besetting me with false hope. Come, help me sit up a little,” Morgana instructed, waiting patiently as Merlin lifted her slight form and placed pillows behind her shoulders. “Now you must pay heed to what I have to say...”

Morgana's and Merlin's stares locked soul to soul while the stillness stretched out as she summoned her voice again.

“When Arthur's time comes, as it must one day, promise me, Merlin, that you will bring him to The Lake of Avalon. Do not commit his body to the flames or the grave, but send him out across the water to the isle and I will be waiting. I will care for him, Merlin, through the centuries. You have my word. What I could not do for him in life, I will do in death, until he comes again.”

The last High Priestess finished speaking and again her eyes closed, but not before Merlin had seen her tears nor managed to stop his own.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment if you feel you'd like. I'd love to know what you think of my last chapters.


	35. Memories To Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A time to say farewell to one of the main characters of the show and also a time to say goodbye to this story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all manage to catch up with these two last chapters and enjoy how I've ended the story. I might at some time in the future revisit this Camelot.
> 
> I'd like to take a chance to say thank you to everyone who has left a comment and added kudos to my story. Your reviews and thanks are very very welcome.

Chapter Thirty-five

Memories To Keep

 

The storm had blown through during the night and the day dawned bright and clear, the sky washed blue with only lacy white clouds scattered across the firmament. Around them the grass appeared greener and, on the trees which fringed the village, the leaves were just beginning to tint with the colours of autumn. As they took their leave of the villagers, they felt the sun warm on their backs, lifting each of their spirits. On such a dazzling new day, it was hard to remain down-hearted.

 

Soon it was time for Bryce to leave them and Mary sent him off with messages for her husband and neighbours, telling them she would be home as soon as she'd finished the task she'd been happy to do... for Gwen and for Morgana, whom she'd come to know over the last few days and, against her expectations, had come to admire. It was hard to imagine that this considerate, delicate lady could have wrought such mayhem.

Yet sometimes the atmosphere within the confines of the wagon was overpowering and Mary would ride up front on the bench with Iseldir, leaving the ladies alone. Oft-times, she would hear a quiet murmur of talking. 

At first, the conversation between Gwen and Morgana was reticent, yet as the hours and the miles passed by, they began to drift back to bygone habits, when there had been a deep bond of friendship.

Morgana began the thaw as she spoke on a sunny morning when Mary had chosen to stretch her legs. “I'm truly sorry, Gwen.” There was no answer, and Morgana thought her companion might be asleep, but she tried again, twisting herself as best she could on her bed to watch Gwen's face. “I know I've no right to ask for your forgiveness for all the sins I've committed, but I want to tell you that I am sorry... and I'm pleased you're here with me.”

There was a moment of silence, until Guinevere pushed herself into a sitting position, swinging her legs to the floor. “Perhaps forgiveness is a lot to ask... so much has happened... too many people have died,” Gwen said haltingly, yet there was no accusation in her voice, only a great sadness. “Yet in the end you saved Arthur's life and for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart. But, Morgana...” Guinevere leaned forward. “I'm not sure I can ever understand the depth of your hatred for my husband, for myself and for Camelot. For Uther yes! I feel no kindness for him and I detest how he taught Arthur that sorcery was evil. Yet Arthur loved you. You more than anyone could have changed Arthur's mind if only you'd chosen to confide in him; enlightened him that magic could be a force for good... long before he knew Merlin had magic.”

Tears brimmed in Morgana's eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Her shaking hands came up to cover her face. “Do you think I don't know that now?” she asked with quiet desperation. “I let myself be corrupted and excused myself of every wrong. I was too much like my father... Uther, not Gorlois. He would have been ashamed of me.” Her tears turned to sobs, deep wrenching cries and hearing them Guinevere's hesitation disappeared. 

With a spontaneity and kindness that was all Gwen, she crossed the small space between them, drawing Morgana into her arms and rocking her as she crooned. “Hush, now. Shh! It's finished. It's over.” 

As she wrapped the too thin and trembling Morgana close, the years dropped away. Her mind returned to Camelot, to an earlier time when she'd held her young mistress as she sobbed hysterically, awaking from a nightmare which Gwen now knew was a prophecy... and another occasion when Morgana had been unable to control her magic and set the curtains on fire. And all the while, Uther's persecution of sorcery had hovered like a sword over her head. How scared she must have been! 

In that tangled skein of good and evil, perhaps many people had caused their share of hurt. Besides, this was not the time for blame. This was a journey of absolution. 

Gently, Guinevere laid Morgana back on her pillows, while her soft fingers wiped away the wet tracks on the other woman's pale cheeks. “Friends again, Morgana,” Gwen said, smiling without guile.

“Friends?” Morgana's frail hand lifted to cover Gwen's own. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say those words.” Morgana's hand dropped and she slipped once more into sleep while Gwen sat silent. Though their bond could never be quite the same as before, The First Ladies of Camelot had made their peace.

 

***** 

When the party came in sight of the Lake of Avalon, a red-gold setting sun bathed the mist shrouded waters. The fog drifted ethereally, shot with orange from the sun's rays while silvered with pewter from the pristine lake. There were still many miles to go, but from their high view point, the lake and the island that rose from its core in hues of green and brown had all the qualities of a spiritual realm.

Arthur sat his horse at the head of the group, measuring the distance of the forested terrain between their position and their destination, and deciding they should make camp for one more night. The odyssey had taken longer than he'd expected, longer than his recent journey in the opposite direction, but his injury had been stabilized and, once they'd met up with Percival, they'd been able to ride.

Now they had women in a large wagon and Morgana's wound was still critical. With every mile that passed, Arthur was aware he was taking his sister home to die... and he regretted and treasured every inch of the way. Which was surprising. Not that he'd ever wished to see her dead, yet in the years when she'd been a steadfast foe, he'd accepted the need to be rid of her, that Camelot and his people would never know peace until she'd been dealt with.

Yet fate played strange tricks with the lives of humans. A week or so ago, not far from this hillside, he had watched Morgana die with complacency if not with pleasure; he'd been puzzled and petrified when she'd returned to life and Camelot. It had taken a leap of faith, tinged with a deal of scepticism, to accept Morgana was no longer seeking to kill him. Indeed, by some strange metamorphosis, she'd become the sister he had loved and grown up with, once more.

All his doubts had faded when she'd taken the knife which was meant for him, so now they travelled to Avalon at Morgana's wish. He wasn't quite sure what would happen there, but he knew she wouldn't be returning with them.

He also had an idea that she'd been waiting to speak with him... perhaps to say farewell. For one of the few times in Arthur's life, he'd given into cowardice. He didn't want to say goodbye. He wanted her with him... to take pleasure in magic's return to Camelot... to play her part as a High Priestess who was a force for good in the kingdom. This realm didn't belong to any one person. He envisioned himself and Guinevere ruling over the land together, with the help of Merlin, Warlock of Camelot, and The Knights of the Round Table. Could Morgana ever have taken a seat around that table, or was that a step too far?

Besides, he knew that was never to be. Tonight would be their final stop on their pilgrimage and tonight he could no longer play the coward. This evening he'd visit Morgana and tell her everything that lay heavily in his heart and listen to whatever she had to say to him; he suspected it would be a homily. Morgana was ever the sister who spoke her mind. In the early days, she'd kept him honest... grounded, when all around him fawned on his every wish, or expected such great deeds from him that they'd made him quail.

Behind him, he heard the wagon arrive and Merlin rode up to join him.

“Are we stopping here for the night?” Merlin asked, staring down at the vista before him and remembering the last time they'd been here together, when Arthur had been the one so near to death. 

“I thought it would be best.” Arthur gazed around at the gathering shadows which heralded the night. “The terrain isn't good for the wagon especially in the dusk. We should rest up and leave again at first light.”

“You do know that Morgana is growing weaker?” Merlin's words were more a statement than a question and he continued persuasively, “You need to speak to her Arthur... alone... before it's too late.”

“I know.” Arthur's lips firmed. “Don't lecture me, Merlin. I'm sorry I've been remiss. I've been putting off saying goodbye. Besides, she's had Kay and the rest of you. And it's not as if I've neglected her. These past few days, I've spoken with her.”

“She doesn't need Kay or any of us! She needs her brother.” Merlin's horse sidled as his hands tightened on the reins involuntarily and he quickly relaxed his grip. “Yes, you've spoken with her, but always when others were there. Never in private. She needs to know you've forgiven her.”

“But surely she knows that?” Arthur's voice was wrenched from the bottom of his soul. “I've already told her so. Back in Camelot, I asked her to live...” He swallowed hard and settled into silence. Even to his own ears he sounded small-minded.

“Life doesn't always go to plan, Arthur,” Merlin answered sadly. “You know that more than anyone. Morgana herself has accepted her path. If you love her at all, you must let her go.”

“I do know!” Arthur repeated, his voice breaking on a painful cough. “But Morgana is the last of my blood kin. My mother died at my birth; I lost my father too soon. I know no one thinks that's a great loss, but despite his many flaws, I did love him and I know he cared for me. He gave his life to save me.” 

Arthur turned his face to his friend and at last Merlin saw the torment stark in The King's eyes. “Does everyone I love have to die that I might live? Merlin, I'm not worthy of their sacrifice.”

Any exasperation Merlin was feeling dropped away, replaced by a well of sympathy for his friend. “Arthur, apart from your mother, who I'm sure gave her life gladly that you would live, the others chose to take the fatal blow. They wanted you to live. To honour them, you must rise above your grief and live every day of your life making sure they did not die in vain.”

A wry smile lifted the corners of Arthur's lips, while be blinked back tears. “No pressure then?” Yet he quickly lifted his hand in apology. “Sorry! It is my destiny. You taught me that long since, yet sometimes I wonder why you have such faith in me...”

“Because you're Arthur, The Once and Future King,” Merlin said with mock solemnity, though the ridicule was gentle.

“I suppose it's useless to think I can escape my destiny.” This time The King's smile came from within. “Besides, I still have you and Guinevere...”

“And you've already created a new member of your blood kin.”

The sounds of a camp being set up at their backs reached them and Arthur turned to watch for a second or two, before dismounting. “Come on, Merlin. They need our help.” He started to walk off.

“Arthur? You will visit Morgana?” Merlin asked with some trepidation.

“You have my word,” Arthur replied, nodding to Merlin. “The Once and Future King can neither be a fool nor a coward. I'll try to live up to everyone's expectations and, who knows, with your help and Guinevere's perhaps I'll succeed.”

 

*****

Sir Kay tried very hard not to show his hurt at Morgana's disappointment when he'd brought her the evening meal, if meal it could be called. The poor lady could only swallow the thinnest of gruels and only a small amount of that.

As Kay helped her drink, he'd known she was hoping that Arthur would come instead, but he put aside his bruised feelings and chatted inconsequentially about their childhood. About the time she, Arthur and himself had sought to try on the royal regalia and to that end had broken into the vaults. 

How disappointed Morgana had been when the jewel encrusted crown had proved too large and slipped all the way down to the bridge of her nose, yet strangely, Arthur had seemed disinterested. With sudden insight, Kay realised that even in boyhood, Arthur had never been concerned with the trappings of wealth and pomp that went with kingship. His heart and mind had always been centred on the safety and welfare of his people.

Despite his current uncharacteristic slighting of Morgana, Kay acknowledged that Arthur was a great king. But even as he reached that conclusion, his thoughts were derailed when Arthur drew the heavy curtain aside and hoisted himself into the wagon.

“Sir Kay, perhaps you would let me serve Morgana tonight?” Arthur asked with a touch of humility. “If that be your wish, Morgana,” he added, a nervous blush colouring his cheeks.

A matching flush, though from happiness, dawned on Morgana's pale face. “It is,” she answered, her voice quiet as a murmuring summer breeze as her gaze shifted to Kay. “Please, Sir Kay. I would speak with my brother... though perhaps you could return to guard me through the night.”

All three knew there was little need for such tight security and Morgana, in her graciousness, had sought to ameliorate Kay's bruised emotions. The knight bowed to both, handed the cup of broth to Arthur and left silently.

Once more, struck dumb by his sister, Arthur glanced down at the mug in his hand. “Morgana, you've hardly touched this!” He sat down at her side, sliding his free hand beneath her head. “Come you must eat. If you want to reach your destination you must keep up your strength,” he said gruffly. Arthur could address his army, or throngs of his people with stirring words of encouragement and glory, but personal emotions had a tendency to stay locked within his throat. “Please, Morgana, for me... for your destiny.” The latter thought came unbidden to his mind and he didn't completely understand it, yet it seemed they were all controlled by fate.

Clearly, Morgana agreed, because she drank a little more of the broth. Moments passed till finally she could speak again. “Arthur, I have to...”

“Morgana, if you're going to apologise again, I'll leave and send Kay back in,” he interrupted with a smile. “You've said you're sorry many times. Besides, your actions spoke louder than words ever could. It should be me lying in that bed...”

Now it was Morgana's turn to cut in. “No!” she ground out, her voice more forceful. “Destiny led us, Arthur.” She echoed his own words. “We're each where we were meant to be and there should be no more recriminations between us.”

“There are none,” Arthur reassured his sister as she struggled to continue talking. “Calm yourself, Morgana. Don't try to talk.” He placed the cup at his feet, knowing she could eat no more, and took her hands within his own. “You're cold,” he said, shocked at the thin, almost translucent look of her fingers. Drawing off his red cloak, he laid it over her blankets of wool and fur. The gold dragon of Camelot settled above her heart.

With her small strength, she laid their clasped hands upon the badge. “Together... the way it should have been... always.” They smiled into each other's eyes and Morgana spoke again. “Promise me you'll live as long as you can and bring peace to Albion.”

“I promise with all my heart.” He bent and kissed her cheek, breathing warmth upon her. “And you have my word that magic will always be welcomed within this land.”

“Good magic, Arthur.” Her hand touched his chest and he let her push him back so she could once more see his face. “Beware those who use magic for their own ends. I let myself be beguiled... You must not.”

“I won't... and I always have Merlin to remind me should I forget.”

“And Gwen. She is a good wife and queen,” she whispered, her voice and wakefulness slipping from her.

Arthur sat soundless, watching and wondering if she would wake again, but content to stay by her side. Soon, he would give up his place to Kay, as Morgana had requested. Yet she surprised him by stirring again... though why that should be, he had no idea. Morgana's fortitude had always been greater than his own. 

“Don't weep for me, brother,” she said, smiling with all her old compassion.

Until she mentioned it, Arthur hadn't realised he was crying silent tears. “Is a brother not allowed to shed tears when he bids farewell to his only sister?”

Morgana nodded her head on her pillow, staying quiet less she too would cry. But there was something she had to say. “Arthur.” Her voice was little louder than the sound of a breath and Arthur leaned closer, clasping her hands more firmly, seeking to anchor her to life. “You'll see me again. Here in Avalon. I go before you to prepare your rest. Merlin knows...” Her dark, heavy eyelids closed. “Stay with me till I sleep...”

Arthur would never know whether he'd heard those last words with his mind or his heart, but obey them he would. Kay would have to wait a while.

 

*****

They rose early in the morning, their hearts leaden, to finish the last leg of their journey... the last day of their time with Morgana. Arthur drove the wagon with Merlin perched next to him while Gwen rode inside the wagon beside her friend.

They left a silent Kay behind them on the hill alongside Iseldir and Mary, but Morgana had been resolute in her instructions. Only these three should accompany her to the lakeside.

There was a definite chill in the air, yet the sky was the colour of periwinkles with the sun a bright orb in the east. Merlin raised his head, enjoying the beauty of the morning.

“The sun is very bright!” Arthur quoted from beside him on the bench leaning into Merlin's shoulder, proving that he hadn't always been the fool Merlin had taken him for, but abruptly his tone changed. “Is it a good day to die, Merlin?”

“You can't think like that, Arthur,” the warlock replied quickly. “You're tormenting yourself needlessly. You will see Morgana again.”

“Yes! She told me.” Arthur stared straight ahead, unsure of how he felt about that prophecy. Finally, he glanced at his friend with desperation in his eyes. “But how, Merlin? The way I saw my father... or Lancelot? Because I have to tell you... neither of these possibilities fill me with joy!”

“It doesn't have to be like that.” A picture of Freya appeared bright in Merlin's mind. He had lost her, but when he'd most needed her, she'd returned to him in spirit... lovely and fey as she had been in life and he loved her still. “Lancelot was a shade; an empty husk filled with another's hate. When he died a second time, I managed to unite his body with his soul through my magic. He awoke and thanked me, but for those few seconds he was our Lancelot again. As for Uther; he died unrepentant and still full of hate and fear. He is a restless spirit...

“An angry one,” Arthur admitted, sadly. “He left me in no doubt he hates what I've done to his kingdom. Now I've returned magic to the realm, he's probably angrier still.”

“Perhaps Morgana can calm him,” Merlin suggested. “I think he loved her above everyone else. Do you know he actually asked Gaius to heal her with magic when she broke her cranium?” 

Arthur's eyebrows rose in surprise. “Even when he condemned others to death, he was prepared to use magic for his own ends? I'm shocked, though perhaps I shouldn't be. They were so alike, you see.” Arthur turned his attention to negotiating the wagon down a particularly rocky decline. Eventually, he spoke again. “Whereas I was a disappointment to him.”

“Thank goodness for that! Camelot didn't need another Uther.” Merlin watched his king's deft hands on the reins, confident yet coaxing and careful. Thus he would continue to rule his kingdom. Merlin smiled. Camelot might face other hardships in the future, but they had a strong, compassionate king to lead them. One who was not afraid to ask for help. “Don't worry, Arthur. Unlike Uther, Morgana is at peace, she will not return as a vengeful spirit.”

“Arthur,” Guinevere's worried voice came from inside the wagon. “How long will it be till we reach the lake? Morgana is fading fast.”

Arthur exchanged a troubled glance with Merlin. They both knew Morgana had placed great importance on getting to the lake while she was still alive, yet the surface of the downhill track was rough and uneven. If they tried to go quicker, both horse and wagon might overturn.

“I'm sorry, Guinevere, but I can't spur the horse. The risk of having an accident is too great. Merlin, isn't there anything you can do with magic?”

But his friend didn't reply. Suddenly, Merlin's attention was fixed firmly on the sky above them.

“Merlin!” Arthur shouldered his unresponsive warlock, yet when he still didn't answer, Arthur turned his own eyes skyward, following Merlin's line of sight.

Far above them, from the mountains in the north west, a shape arrowed towards the slow moving wagon, scaly wings beating rhythmically. 

Arthur reined in. “What is that?”

“Aithusa!” Merlin shouted, laughter ringing clear in his tone. “Morgana's dragon has come to help her mistress.”

“Another dragon? Coming here?” Arthur's voice rose an octave. He wasn't sure he would ever be totally comfortable with all of Merlin's magical friends. “And I thought you were a dragonlord! Why is that dragon Morgana's?” 

“I am a dragonlord and Aithusa will obey me... but Morgana found her when she was young and lost. They've been through a lot together...”

“Imprisoned in a pit by the Sarrum of Amata.” Gwen stuck her head through the wagon's front covering. “I remember. He took great pleasure in telling us about it...”

“I'm sorry, Guinevere,” Arthur said contritely. “I should never have entertained making a treaty with such a man.”  
“You did it for the good of Camelot. What you thought was best,” Gwen offered, though it was clear she still didn't approve of the choice Arthur had made.

“Camelot can do without such allies.” Arthur twisted to face his wife. “If I ever suggest anything so stupid again, hit me over the head with something.”

At this Gwen eyes gleamed mischievously. “I'll do no such thing! I'll get Merlin to blast you instead.” In the tense situation, suddenly there was a modicum of calm as the three friends shared a grin.

However, during their little interlude, Aithusa had covered the distance between them, and she landed with a flurry of wings and dragged claws by the side of the track mere inches from the carriage. Her long neck snaked towards them in curiosity. 

Merlin jumped down to greet her, which he did in the dragon-tongue, before switching to a language the others would understand. “Have you come to say goodbye to Morgana?” Merlin asked, his voice kind and his eyes brimming with sympathy. He knew Aithusa was the one being Morgana loved unconditionally.

There was a series of throaty clicks and groans and pleading eye contact from the dragon, while Merlin's head cocked to one side, listening. Meanwhile, The King and Queen could swear they saw tears sparkling in the dragon's large blue eyes. Merlin spoke more words neither understood. 

Suddenly, Merlin turned to his friends. “Quickly. Aithusa wants to fly Morgana to the Isle of Avalon. She says it's the only way she'll get there in time.”

“But how?” Arthur looked calculatingly at Aithusa, taking in her lean white body and the shredded membranes of her wings. “Can it... I mean she... I'm sorry. Meeting a dragon is still very new to me,” he explained, bowing slightly to Aithusa, an apprehensive grin lifting his mouth. “Can Aithusa carry Morgana safely?”

Another burst of gurgling sounds came from Aithusa accompanied by a frantic nodding of her head.

“She says yes!” Merlin gave a rough translation. Though he wasn't sure of every word, he understood the gist of Aithusa's mumbling. “If we make a cradle for Morgana, Aithusa can take it up in her talons. It's not exactly a long distance to the island for a dragon and she's stronger than she looks. We should do it.”

Arthur's lips thinned and his hands rested on his hips as he looked between the dragon and the small isle rising from the sun-gilded waters of the lake.

“Arthur,” Gwen said, crossing to stand by Merlin. “I agree with Merlin. It's what Morgana would want.”

“And the only way she'll make it alive,” Merlin said very low, as if afraid to tempt fate.

But Arthur wasn't ready to commit his sister's life to a scrawny dragon. He'd promised her he'd see her safely to the lake...

“Arthur, I'll go with Aithusa.” The back drape of the wagon was pulled a little way aside and Morgana appeared in the opening, leaning heavily on the wooden side-board. At once, Gwen and Arthur were by her side, easing her down to sit on the edge of the cart as Morgana drooped in exhaustion. “It's for the best, Arthur. We can say goodbye here.”

Though he still wasn't convinced, he recognised Morgana's time was running out. The pulse in her neck was racing wildly with her final effort to stay awake. With a sigh, he surrendered. “If that's your wish, Morgana, then that's what we'll do.”

While Guinevere held Morgana, Merlin and Arthur hurried to comply with Aithusa's instructions to make a secure stretcher, the dragon watching approvingly as Merlin employed his magic to hurry things along. When both men and dragon were satisfied with its construction, Arthur gently carried Morgana and laid her inside the cocoon. There was now little doubt in his mind that Aithusa could support Morgana's weight. His sister was feather-light.

Guinevere was the first to kneel by Morgana's side, giving her a last hug. “Take care, Morgana... and be happy wherever you are bound.” Somehow Gwen understood that a High Priestess would not die a normal death.

“I will,” Morgana murmured. “But you must take care too.” Morgana's hand drifted to Gwen's stomach. “Greet my niece when she arrives,” she whispered so low neither husband nor friend would hear. 

Sitting back, her eyes glowing, Gwen sought to question her, but Morgana hushed her, then called to her brother. “Arthur? Will you take your leave of one who caused you so much heartache?”

The Queen stepped back, understanding Morgana would say no more, making room for Arthur who sank to his knees.

“I will say farewell to one who once brought me joy! Morgana, we lost sight of each other for a time... but I never forgot the sister I loved and I'm glad we had this chance for a reconciliation.” He raised her into his arms again, pressing a kiss on her forehead. 

“Goodbye, Arthur.” Morgana hid her face in his shoulder, not wanting to leave at the last moment... but it was her destiny. “Remember, we are parted only for a time. We'll be united on Avalon.” She raised her eyes to his, impressing his countenance upon her mind forever. Then she kissed him and laid back, stretching a shaking hand to Merlin to beckon him forward. “Emrys?” And when he came, she gave him one of her legendary smirks which turned into a lovely smile. “You were a worthy foe... but a much better ally. The Cailleach was wrong... you weren't my doom... you were my saviour.”

Merlin felt a lump form in his throat, yet he lifted her hand to his lips. “Goodbye, Morgana. I wish I could have saved you sooner.”

“We cannot change the past... only the future. Will you remember my instructions?”

“I promise.”

Morgana's gaze drifted to the three people who were once her dearest comrades, before she called to Aithusa. 

“Now is the time. Take care of each other.”

Without wasting another second, Aithusa beat her wings, and grasping the makeshift cradle in her talons, she sailed into the pure blue heavens, heading straight towards the lake and the island. For many moments those left behind watched her flight, until Merlin bestirred himself.

“Come on, we have to get down to the lake!” He had no idea why, but he was certain that should be so.

Leaving their carriage, the three scrambled down the slope, Arthur and Merlin supporting Guinevere so she wouldn't fall. By the time they finally reached the shore, all three were out of breath and Aithusa with her precious cargo had disappeared behind the crest of the isle's hill.

Each of them waited in silence contemplating Morgana's final words; Arthur wondering how long it would be before he made this same journey; Merlin knowing that he never would see Avalon and Guinevere hugging her wonderful knowledge to herself... a girl! She would give birth to a girl successfully. Morgana would make sure.

Time passed, yet neither thought to leave, when suddenly, Merlin pointed to the sky once more.

“Look!”

Swooping gracefully towards them, Aithusa dived and soared through the air, her body straight and muscled, her wings beating with a strength she had never before possessed and her skin glowing with an iridescence that almost blinded the eye.

“Is that Aithusa?” Arthur asked a little sceptically.

“She's beautiful!” Gwen laughed, holding tightly to Arthur's arm.

“It's how she was meant to be!” Merlin said in awe.

Then Aithusa shocked them all as her voice rang out. “Merlin! Merlin! I can talk! The Lady Morgana has come into her own and she cured me. See what I can do!”

For moments the three friends stared upwards as Aithusa put on a flying display, tracing patterns in the sky by trailing silver sparkles in her wake. Arthur, Guinevere and Merlin laughed and clapped when she at last touched down before them.

Aithusa bowed nobly, unable to stop preening just a little. “Sir King, of course, it's me. Do you know any other dragons?”

“Not really. Not one I've been introduced to,” Arthur said smiling broadly at the huge creature. “I'm happy to meet you.”

“Likewise... and to you too Queen Guinevere.” 

Guinevere bobbed a tiny curtsy as Aithusa turned to Merlin. 

“Dragonlord, it's good to finally talk with you.”

“It's good to see you looking so well and healthy,” Merlin replied. “Where will you go now, Aithusa?” he asked, sensing that Aithusa was fretting to be off on her adventures.

“I have been given instructions by The Lady, and to carry them out I must ask King Arthur to remain completely still and Queen Guinevere to stand aside.” Aithusa swung her head toward Arthur, her blue eyes twinkling. When she was satisfied Arthur and Gwen had heeded her directions, she drew herself up, her neck curved like a swan, her chest full. Momentarily, she stood still as a statue, until she lowered her head and a stream of cold air, shining like diamonds sprayed from her mouth, engulfing The King.

Merlin was taken by surprise, and for a fleeting second he feared for Arthur, yet he sensed no threat in Aithusa's actions. Besides, Aithusa was acting under Morgana's decree, and he had no doubt that Morgana wanted the best for her brother.

Within minutes, Aithusa was sitting back on her haunches, and a white-faced Arthur regained his composure, while Gwen took his arm again, checking to see that he had taken no hurt.

“I have done what I could, Sire,” Aithusa announced, though there was an edge of guilt in her voice. “It was my breath that enchanted the sword which struck you down. For that I'm sorry, but I'm afraid my magic isn't strong enough to remove it completely. I have managed to freeze it in place and with Merlin's help, the shard shouldn't trouble you for some time.”

Arthur took a deep breath at those words, and was surprised to find he felt no pain. “Whatever you did, Aithusa, I'm grateful. Breathing doesn't hurt so much any more.”

“But you still need to be careful. Unfortunately, there is no cure for what ails you.” Aithusa gazed sadly at The King she had been instrumental in wounding, then she shook off her apathy. These three people were happy in each other's care. She could leave them now. She was the last of the dragons and now that she was healthy, she had the whole world to explore. With a goofy laugh... she was only six years old, which was very young in dragon terms, she took to the sky, soaring away as her voice drifted back to the lakeside.

“Farewell my friends... My dragonlord. Be happy! And always remember... there is much strength in your friendship.”

~We will,” Merlin answered telepathically. “Till we meet again.~

Left alone, the three friends felt strangely bereft. They had reached the end of a journey and for a moment they stood silent on the edge of a void... 

“What do we do now?” Guinevere stirred herself to ask.

“We go home,” Arthur answered, taking his wife's hand and pulling her close as he turned to survey the hill. Somehow it hadn't seemed so steep or long on the way down. “And hopefully Sir Kay will realise that his king doesn't enjoy walking and come to pick us up.”

Merlin followed the couple, laughing brightly. “Have you noticed, Gwen, how your husband is never satisfied? Always seeking his own comfort!”

“Merlin!” Arthur bawled.

“Shut up?”

 

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting for around a couple of weeks to read the ending, but I really thought I'd posted it. Now you've read it all, I'd love to hear your final verdict.
> 
> I'd also like to thank again the loyal readers who have let me know how they've enjoyed this story... to Annie who has encouraged me throughout, I owe you a big hug and to jbk who had such wonderful things to say about the story and my writing. You have both made me very happy.


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